


The Abyss Looks Back

by Fier



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Case Fic, Child Abuse, Child Death, F/M, Fox Mulder Angst, Fox Mulder Torture, Hurt Fox Mulder, Kidnapping, Murder, Murder Mystery, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26785408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fier/pseuds/Fier
Summary: Mulder is the Bureau's last hope for solving a horrific child kidnapping/murder case and is assigned as behavioral specialist consultant. It's Skinner and Scully's job to keep him well and sane long enough to prevent another death. Similarities to both victim and killer profiles create an uneasy resonance in Mulder, who must fight to maintain enough of a professional distance so as to avoid an unrecoverable slide into the abyss.
Relationships: Dana Scully & Walter Skinner, Fox Mulder & Walter Skinner, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The Abyss Looks Back by Kronos   
> kronos1@adelphia.net
> 
> Rating: R  
> Category: XA  
> Spoilers: Through Fifth Season to Date  
> Keywords: Mulder/Scully UST, Mulder/Scully/Skinner Friendship
> 
> Summary: Mulder is the Bureau's last hope for solving a horrific child kidnapping/murder case and is assigned as behavioral specialist consultant. It's Skinner and Scully's job to keep him well and sane long enough to prevent another death. Similarities to both victim and killer profiles create an uneasy resonance in Mulder, who must fight to maintain enough of a professional distance so as to avoid an unrecoverable slide into the abyss.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters herein belong to 1013 Productions and Fox Broadcasting. Usage is made without authorization but with utmost respect. 
> 
> Archive: Anywhere appropriate with notice to author and name of author attached.
> 
> Author Notes: This is a first-time effort. Please be kind with feedback. Sincerest thanks to Heidi Manzone for story ideas and editing. My apologies to anyone living in Minneapolis or St. Paul who might be offended by the fact that I have created locations out of thin air due to my complete lack of knowledge of these fine cities. I further offer apologies in advance to anyone who might be offended at the religious tie-ins I have manufactured. No disrespect is intended.

**Tuesday, 8:09 a.m.**

**F.B.I. Headquarters**

**Washington, D.C.**

Dana Scully had just settled at her desk after completing the ritual she implemented every morning upon arriving at the X-Files office. Say "Morning Mulder", put briefcase on desk, hang coat on rack, get a cup of already made coffee from the pot (cream no sugar), sit down at desk and get a good look at her partner. This final part of the ritual had become almost a game of late. Could she decipher from expression and body language alone, his mood, his thoughts, whether a new X-File had piqued his interest?

It became obvious to Scully that this morning was going to be more of a challenge than most. Her partner, Fox Mulder, had hardly acknowledged her presence with a weak 'Morning' and was now staring blankly at a file that sat on the desk in front of him. She could barely see his face. The ringing of her phone prevented Scully from asking him about the file in which he seemed so engrossed.

"Scully."

She immediately recognized the voice of Skinner's administrative assistant, Kimberly, asking her if she could come to the Assistant Director's office.

"I'll be right there." Scully hung up the phone and rose out of her chair, unconsciously straightening her suit jacket as she did so. She took a deep breath, silently preparing herself for an unexpected encounter with AD Skinner. Mulder still hadn't moved a muscle and Scully began to get the uncomfortable feeling that he might actually be the reason she was being called into Skinner's office - alone.

"Mulder, that was Kimberly. I've been called to Skinner's office." At this, Scully was relieved to see that Mulder looked up at her with a slightly confused expression.

"Just you? For what?" His words to her confirmed that her speculation had been unfounded. A twinge of guilt niggled it's way through to her consciousness.

"I don't know, she didn't say."

He continued to look at her curiously, as if expecting that she would somehow miraculously pull more information out of the air. Almost with disgust, Scully shook her head slightly and headed for the door. Mulder's voice stopped her as she was turning the door handle.

"I don't think I've done anything to get us in trouble, Scully. I've only been here for half an hour." Scully smiled at the wry grin on his face. This was a Mulder she could definitely read.

"Don't worry, Mulder, I'll be sure to let you know one way or the other."

Her trip to the Assistant Director's office was mercifully brief, with elevators and crowds posing no obstacles for a change. Kimberly's smile and nod relieved Scully somewhat of the feeling of apprehension that had settled over her, despite Mulder's joking words.

Scully opened the door to AD Skinner's office and entered, quietly closing it again behind her. As she made her way to her accustomed seat, Scully attempted to read Skinner's mood, despite the silent reminder to herself that she hadn't been having much luck along those lines lately.

Skinner looked at his agent, who sat waiting patiently for him to speak. Dana Scully was the picture of professionalism and calm, even though he could guess at the distress his summons had evoked. _Dammit! Why should I feel guilty about this? It is my place and my job to make assignments like this._ Skinner realized that the internal argument that he had been waging with himself since the evening before had long since become circular. He heaved an uncharacteristic sigh before breaking the silence.

Skinner decided it was best not to beat around the bush. "Scully, are you familiar with the Twin Cities Strangler case?" If possible, it seemed that his agent became even more pale at the mention of the case that was quickly becoming every FBI agent's nightmare. The press had long since blamed the FBI for not putting an end to the seemingly random kidnapping/murders that were plaguing the twin cities of St. Paul and Minneapolis.

Scully, like every agent in the Bureau, knew of the case and of the fact that it was a publicity nightmare. Seven deaths so far of children ranging in age from five to thirteen, all economic backgrounds, both boys and girls, although the first four had been all boys. The children were taken from home, from school, from the playground, from stores - no common denominator. In fact, it seemed that there was nothing to tie the victims together at all, they were chosen at random. First came the kidnapping, then after between one to three days, severe beatings ending with strangulation - always with shoestrings that had been tied together to create an effective noose. The bodies had been found dumped in a variety of locations - again, with no seeming link.

Scully had figured it would only be a matter of time before they turned to Mulder for help. Patterson's Golden Boy - the only profiler to exceed a ninety percent success rate in the history of the unit. Even since he'd fought his way out of the VCS, no one else had come anywhere close to achieving Mulder's solve rate.

Scully breathed deeply and attempted to answer evenly. "Of course, sir." Scully lifted her chin slightly, almost in challenge, making it clear that she would not make this easy on him.

Walter Skinner cursed once more to himself and found that he had dropped his eyes to the piece of paper in front of him. The memo from the Director telling him, in no uncertain terms, that his days of pampering Mulder were over. Either Skinner would put Mulder on the case or the Director would do so personally.

"I'm sorry, Scully. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am. My hands are tied." Skinner looked up again at his agent, this woman whom he'd grown to admire and respect so greatly over the last five years. He knew she would argue, she knew he knew. It wouldn't change anything, but both had roles to play.

"Sir, the Mostow case almost killed him, and Roche.....He almost lost himself the last time." Scully shook her head slightly and tried to regroup. "Sir, there must be some other way. He got out of the VCS for a reason. He, he..." - only Nietsche's famous quote on evil seemed appropriate to Scully as being a good argument, the only argument really - "he slid into the abyss but he managed to pull himself out. Patterson didn't. You can't do this to him."

Skinner realized that Mulder's name had even now not been explicitly mentioned. There was only one 'he' to Scully. Skinner doubted she even realized the implications. He couldn't resist anymore - all his frustrations came pouring out in the fist that slammed against his desk, scattering papers and knocking a book to the floor.

Scully jumped in her seat, eyes widening slightly - the only evidence that she was surprised by Skinner's actions. Inside, however, Scully felt her stomach clench and heart hesitate, as if waiting for the other shoe to fall.

"Scully, I have been denying requests for his involvement for the past three months. I made it clear to those involved that there should be no 'unofficial' requests to him directly. I have instead given them more resources, assigned more agents to the case, the best we have." Skinner's eyes searched out Scully's. "But not really the best."

She knew it then, knew that he had been protecting her partner as best he could. Knew that everyone had a boss, everyone had someone who had the ability to turn their world upside down, even Skinner.

Scully tried to nod, to let him know that she didn't blame him, that she understood. But she was terrified - terrified of what getting into the mind of a killer who kidnapped, mutilated, and then killed innocent children would do to her partner, her best friend. She was terrified that this time, his slide into the abyss would not be halted. Scully felt her eyes fill with tears, unbidden and unwelcome. She angrily wiped away the evidence that she was not really the Ice Queen.

Skinner stood from behind his desk and walked over to kneel in front of Scully. He knew she'd absolved him of responsibility for the decision to assign Mulder to the case, but he hadn't yet absolved himself. He gently placed his hands on top of Scully's and then gripped them more tightly.

"I might not be able to do anything about assigning him to the case, but I'll do everything I can to make sure he comes out of it all right. I'm going with you."

The look of confusion that had crossed Scully's face when he first took hold of her hands gave way to relief, as she understood that she would not be alone in keeping her partner well and sane. Scully was able to whisper a strangled "Thank you, sir" and then began to bolster her defenses once again.

Skinner seemed to sense her need for a moment to collect herself. He stood and leaned back against his desk, still keeping his eyes on Scully. When she looked up at him, Skinner knew she was ready to talk about details.

"There's a flight at 2 p.m. out of National. I'll meet you at the gate. Kimberly has the tickets. She also has copies of all the case files."

He paused a moment and Scully knew that he was unsure about who should inform Mulder of the new assignment. She decided to take advantage of the temporary break to assert her own view.

"Sir, if it's all right with you, I'd prefer to tell Mulder of our new assignment."

Relief washed over Skinner's face and then quickly changed to disgust as he realized just how much he wanted to abdicate his responsibilities in this case. "Scully, why don't you inform Agent Mulder of the case and I'll bring the files down to your office in about twenty minutes so we can all discuss a general approach before heading out."

Scully nodded in acceptance, rose and made her way to the door. She stood for a second with her hand on the knob, then turned and said simply, "Thank you, sir", before heading out and shutting the door behind her.

Walter Skinner nodded, knowing that she was thanking him for more than just being willing to face Mulder personally. She was thanking him for trying to protect them, and for caring enough to want to. He moved back around his desk to begin making the many arrangements that would be necessary to keep things running smoothly while he was away for what might be the next few weeks. This one was going to cost a hell of a lot of favors.

* * *

In the X-Files office, Mulder sat still staring at the file in front of him. It was a compilation of data, information, photos, and theories that had been gathered on the Twin Cities Strangler case. Mulder knew it was only a matter of time before he was called in. He had a suspicion that Scully's visit to Skinner this morning was, in fact, tied to this case.

Mulder's stomach rolled and he fought down the warring feelings of terror and guilt. Terror at what profiling this kind of monster would do to him and guilt that he hadn't gotten involved sooner. Perhaps he could have saved a child or two. It wasn't arrogance that led to such a thought, it was his gift - his curse. The ability to understand the killer's motivations, thoughts, feelings - to know him - to become him. And with each bit of understanding went a little more of his soul.

Mulder pushed back from his desk slowly and leaned forwards, elbows resting on knees. He brought his hands up to rub his face and ran his fingers through his hair. He'd told Scully he'd been in for half an hour but the truth was he'd never left last night. Not since he got the file from Vickers. He had a decision to make. If they weren't being assigned to this case by Skinner, he might request it. Perhaps he had to. It seemed he'd lose either way. If he could save a child by losing himself, wouldn't it be worth it?

* * *

Scully came back to the office to find her partner leaning forward in his chair, hands raised to his face, with fingertips rubbing his forehead. He didn't look particularly well. She noticed for the first time the day's growth of beard and the wrinkled suit. Was it the same one he'd worn yesterday? How could she have been so blind earlier? Scully cursed the nameless fates once again and decided to be as blunt with her partner as Skinner had been with her.

"Mulder, I just came from Skinner's office. We've been assigned a new case." Mulder was looking at her now intently, expectantly, fingers temporarily halted in their circular paths. "He's assigned us to the Twin Cities Strangler case."

Scully expected perhaps a look of distaste, of frustration. She hadn't expected the smile that crossed his face or the laugh. Scully was trying to decide whether this constituted bizarre enough behavior to call for help, when it dawned on her that his was not a laugh of pleasure or amusement, but rather was tinged with hysteria.

Mulder sat up straight, attempting to regain his composure before Scully had him committed. He picked up the file in front of him, closed it and handed it to her silently. He watched as Scully crossed the room to take it and then looked down at the cover. She started looking through the file as he began to talk.

"An old.....acquaintance of mine asked me to look it over. Told me they'd all been threatened with a tour in Alaska if any of them tried contacting me 'unofficially'. He said he was sure no one on the team was going to catch this guy. He seemed to think I might be their only chance."

Mulder paused and shifted behind his desk, folding his arms on the top. The resigned slouch spoke volumes to Scully. She knew the struggle he'd been waging within himself. She wondered for how long?

"Mulder, when did you get this file?"

Mulder dropped his head onto his folded arms and Scully heard the muffled reply, "Yesterday."

"Were you here all night?"

Mulder sat up again and looked straight at his partner, trying to assure her he was up to this, even if he wasn't totally convinced himself. "Look, Scully, I'm fine, I'm ready. It's the right thing. It probably should have happened much sooner than this. When do we leave?"

A knock on their office door prevented Scully from replying. _Oh, well, Dana, just go with the flow_. She had no idea how Mulder was going to respond to the news that Skinner was going to accompany them. "Come in," she said.

Skinner opened the door and walked into their office, a rather large box held securely under one arm. He moved to set the box on the nearest desk, as he tried to assess the mood in the room. Before he could say anything, Scully turned back to her partner, who had scrambled to a standing position on the sight of his boss.

"Mulder, AD Skinner will be accompanying us to the Twin Cities."

Skinner quickly understood that his arrival was a bit premature and prepared to head off any fireworks. "Mulder, as I explained to Agent Scully, this case has become a political hot potato. Until it's resolved, my ass is on the line personally." Well, it sounds like a good reason, anyway, even if it wasn't the complete truth. "I brought down complete copies of the files to date. I was hoping we could hash out some broad goals for our initial efforts."

Mulder had not said a word. Had not, in fact, even moved, perhaps not even breathed since Scully and Skinner started talking.

Mulder could see them looking at him, expectantly, waiting for a reaction. He wasn't sure what to think, what to feel. He sensed that something more was going on, but was too stunned and exhausted to work it out. He recognized that some part of himself, deep down, felt relieved at the news. He had come to think of Skinner as a friend and, although their age difference was not that great, even something of a father figure and protector. The pressure to respond to them was building. He knew he had to say something.

"Okay, when do we leave?"

He almost laughed at seeing both Skinner and Scully sag in relief. A small smile played at one corner of his mouth when he leaned close to his partner and whispered in her ear, "So, does this mean no Celebrity Skin on the airplane?"

Scully was obviously trying hard not to laugh when she replied, "Mulder, you can read whatever you want - you just have to share with AD Skinner."

Mulder opened his mouth in a fake laugh and looked at his boss. "So, when DO we leave?"

"The plane leaves National at 2. We have about an hour or so before I have to head out to pack. And I assume you'll both have to do the same." Both agents nodded in silent agreement and then started walking towards the box of files sitting on Scully's desk.

Skinner pulled a chair over to the desk and sat back while his agents pulled files out of the box. "Agent Mulder, what do you know about this case?" Skinner saw Mulder flash a look at Scully, almost too fast to catch. He couldn't interpret it.

"Sir, I know that there have been seven children so far, all Caucasian, five boys, two girls, ages 7, 11, 5, 13, 10, 6, and 9, in the order of their kidnapping, taken during day and night, from home, school, shopping centers, a gas station once, taken roughly one month apart, molested...."

At this Skinner and Scully both jerked in surprise, Scully because this information had never been reported and Skinner because of the obvious breakdown in security around the case.

Mulder continued on, either not noticing or not acknowledging the surprise of his partner and boss. "...beaten, and then strangled with their own shoestrings, tied together to form a garrote, eventually dumped." Mulder's voice had become monotone, his eyes unfocused, a sure sign he was attempting to distance himself from the horrors of the case.

"The team working the case has assumed the killer to be male, between 20 an 35, unmarried, living with parents or parent. They believe the victims were chosen at random and on a whim and were dumped also by whim. They believe the delay between kidnapping and murder to be merely a matter of convenience on the part of the killer rather than a result of any plan or design."

Skinner sat staring at Mulder, wishing for some sign of emotion from his agent. He had never seen this Mulder personally before, this Mulder sunk in profiler mode, and he found it was bothering him tremendously. Skinner realized Mulder had stopped talking and was gradually focusing on his boss once more.

"Someone gave you the files to review." It was not a question. There was no way Mulder could have known so many of the details of the case. They hadn't been reported by the press and were definitely not common knowledge outside the Twin Cities team.

Mulder sighed heavily and shook his head. "No sir, only a summary file. It's right that I should be involved sir. It's the right thing."

Skinner wasn't sure which one of them Mulder was trying to convince more.

"Okay, so you know some of the details, the rest is here. Everything the team's uncovered or done, as well as the profiles to date. What do you suggest as the best process to implement from here on out?"

Mulder felt relieved that Skinner wasn't going to try to find out who'd broken security on the case. He had no desire to get Vickers in hot water over this. In reality, Vickers was a good agent, with a kind heart, who was in way over his head with a case such as this.

"Scully and I obviously need time to read through these files. We should have time between now and our arrival in Minneapolis. We'll at least make headway. I assume you've read them already?" Skinner nodded.

"I don't know if it's necessary to re-perform any of the autopsies. Hopefully, Scully will have a better idea by the time we get there. Scully, I'll need you to talk with the pathologists, though. There are three different ones listed, with the last 4 autopsies all being performed by the same one - a Dr. Davidson. It evidently took them awhile to figure out what they had. We need impressions. Was anger a motivation for the beatings, the murder, was the killer in control or not, was he just pissed or was he meeting out justice? It'll have to be qualitative impressions. I don't want to fall into the trap of taking any of the team's conclusions at face value. We start over, look at every possibility, even those that have been ruled out already. I'll want to meet with the team ASAP, tonight if possible, tomorrow first thing if not. We have roughly one to two weeks before he takes his next victim. We'll have to move fast. I'll want to review the team control center, perhaps make some modifications, reorganize. Jenkins is ASAC - won't like my being there - won't take input without a fight, just on principle, unless he's mellowed. He doesn't like me - it's an old grudge. I might need your backing."

Mulder was looking at Skinner, waiting for an understanding that he eventually received. Skinner knew Dave Jenkins personally and believed Mulder was selling the man short. They'd see. However it played out, though, he'd back both his agents.

Mulder was animated now, pacing in the cramped space between the wall and desks. "I'll need to review the crime scenes, in order, tomorrow. Scully, it would be good if you could be there, but I realize you might be tied up. They've totally abandoned the idea of a pattern. They're wrong, there is a pattern to the victim choice, and, I believe, to where he's dumping them. I don't see it yet, I don't see the pattern, but I know it's there. At any rate, they haven't really been looking for patterns since the fifth victim. They've written it all off as random. That's just bad procedure, regardless. When we find the patterns, we have a chance at identifying the next victim or victim type, and we'll have more insight to his motivations. It is a he, male that is, but I think most of the rest of the profile is just plain wrong. I'll know more after reviewing the files. I think...."

Mulder tapered off his somewhat frenetic discourse as if he were suddenly worried at how his audience might react. He looked at both Scully and Skinner closely, gauging how much he could trust them, before continuing.

"I think he knows the victims....somehow. I believe there's a link. That's another reason to find the pattern. The pattern may help with identifying the link."

Mulder was staring at Skinner, eyes begging for his trust. He needed Skinner's support if he were going to make it through this case. He needed to be believed. Skinner didn't disappoint, regardless of what he must have been thinking.

"Okay, Mulder. Before we get there, I want you to draw up a list of all action items you think warranted. We'll get the ball rolling as soon as possible. Right now, you're being called in strictly as a consultant profiler. But Jenkins knows I'll be calling the shots from here on out and that I'll be counting on you to provide new leads and ideas. You won't have any problems."

Skinner stood and gestured to the door. "I'm going to wrap up some things in my office and head out. I'll meet you both at the gate around 1:30 p.m."

With that he opened the door and left the X-Files office. His long strides took him quickly to the elevator where he pushed the up button and then let out an explosive breath. My God, he thought to himself, in less than fifteen minutes, Mulder, unshaved and in a crumpled suit that looked like he'd slept in it, had thrown out the results of seven months of effort on the part of some thirty different agents, had insisted that they were wrong about all crucial aspects of the case, and had told him, told Skinner, that he, Mulder, expected his, Skinner's, support to back up his, Mulder's, crazy ideas.

But they weren't really crazy, Skinner knew. There was a reason that Mulder had the highest solve rate in the VCS. There was a reason Patterson fought so hard to keep him from transferring out.

Even while he acknowledged this awareness, Skinner recognized that more importantly, he trusted the man. He trusted Mulder's instincts and he trusted him to solve this horrendous case, even though no one else in the agency had a clue as to how to go about it. If they wanted to prevent more children from meeting the fate of those poor seven who'd already fallen victim to this killer, then they'd all have to trust Mulder. It was going to be his and Scully's job to keep Mulder intact long enough for him to find the killer.


	2. Chapter 2

Scully pulled up in front of Mulder's apartment complex and honked the horn. She was running a few minutes late and hoped that she wouldn't have to go in after him. Missing the flight was NOT an option. Just as she was ready to pull over and park, Mulder came running down the steps of his building, a suitcase in each hand and a briefcase over his shoulder. He'd taken the time to shower and change clothes and looked much fresher than he had any right to look after at least some thirty plus hours without sleep.

Scully pulled the trunk release and unlocked the passenger door. After stowing his bags, Mulder slipped into the passenger seat and gave Scully a small smile and a "Hey."

After Skinner left their office earlier, they had continued discussing the case for another fifteen minutes or so before heading to their respective homes to pack. Scully agreed that the forensic information obtained during the autopsies was most likely straightforward and that new autopsies probably weren't warranted. She'd make the final determination after reviewing the reports on the plane. Both agreed that Scully should be able to accompany Mulder to the crime scenes, where the bodies had been dumped, barring any unforeseen circumstances. She also concurred with his assessment that a pattern to both victim selection and dumping site should be sought.

Mulder wasn't sure why her agreement meant so much to him. Scully had never been trained as a profiler. But she was his partner whom he trusted, and he needed to know she was behind him. He settled back into the seat and closed his eyes, recognizing that even a fifteen minute nap was going to be hard to come by over the next few days.

* * *

Mulder and Scully were seated in the same row, Mulder on the aisle, Scully at the window seat, with a stack of case files in the seat between them. Mulder had at least two of the case files sitting on a closed portable computer on his lap, with another file sitting open on top of the stack. In the row behind, Skinner sat in the aisle seat across from his agents, with another stack of files on the empty seat next to him. The flight attendants had quickly learned to keep these three stocked with coffee and to not bother them with anything further.

Skinner had been reviewing the summary file Jenkins had compiled on the case. He could see why Mulder and Jenkins might not get along. Jenkins was a by- the-book, follow procedure agent. He'd had a respectable career as an agent, serving well in the field and earning the respect of the agents under him.

Skinner had known Dave Jenkins personally for years, had even worked with him many years ago. In fact, he liked the man. Jenkins, however, was known to have little tolerance for agents who didn't follow the rules. It was one reason he might never make it any further up the chain of command.

Skinner couldn't identify anything particularly wrong with the way the investigation had been handled to this point, but it was basically uninspired with no risks taken. Perhaps Jenkins couldn't appreciate risk takers -- and Mulder certainly fell in that category.

Skinner glanced up from the file he'd been reviewing and looked over at his maverick agent once again. Mulder had been totally engrossed in reading the stack of case files since they'd arrived at the airport. Skinner had been keeping an eye on the agent, partly out of curiosity and partly in amazement.

In the last fifteen minutes or so he'd completed reading the account of events pertaining to the fourth murder and had moved on to the fifth. Skinner knew intimately that each case file contained hundreds of pages of witness reports, officer accounts, forensic reports, photographs, and agent summaries. Not exactly easy reading. Yet, Mulder had only taken fifteen minutes to read the complete file and probably could recite line and verse of any page at will.

Skinner knew that it was partly this ability to absorb information so quickly, and then to be able to access it at will through his eidetic memory, that allowed Mulder to piece together profiles that bewildered others who had access to exact the same information and data.

Mulder now sat staring blankly at the seat back in front of him. He hadn't moved in the last couple minutes. Skinner, feeling like a voyeur, still couldn't force himself to look away. Mulder's hands sat flat on top of the open file, a recent school picture of the fifth victim smiling out from between his fingers. Skinner remembered the picture now, a little girl, just turned 10 and small for her age, with brown hair in pig tails, red ribbon wrapped around the ends and streaming down in swirls.

Skinner couldn't see Scully from his vantage point but saw her hand move over to rest on top of Mulder's. The silent communication must have helped because Mulder finally moved, turning his head toward his partner. Skinner saw Mulder squeeze Scully's hand and then it was gone from his sight. He wasn't sure if words were exchanged but Mulder looked back to the case file and then slowly turned the page.

* * *

The layover in Chicago gave them a chance to stretch their legs, but not much else. By the time the three walked from one terminal to another, their second flight was practically ready to board. They had only about fifteen minutes before they had to board the flight.

Scully was pretty sure that Mulder hadn't eaten anything since sometime the day before and was determined to get something into him before they got to Minneapolis. She was starting to wish she'd talked with Skinner in a little greater detail before they left. She'd need him to help her to convince her partner to eat and rest during this case.

As they dropped their carry-on bags on a couple of empty seats outside their gate, Scully turned to Skinner.

"Sir, I'm starved and we're not scheduled to get any food on this flight. How about if I get us all something to bring with us? I saw a deli just a couple gates down."

Skinner was just about to tell Scully he wasn't hungry when something in her look communicated itself to him. He found himself agreeing, even though he had eaten a hefty lunch just before leaving home. A glance at Mulder confirmed that Scully had an ulterior motive. He was once again absorbed in a case file, oblivious to his surroundings, oblivious to Scully's comments, and oblivious to her departure once Skinner had agreed with her.

"Mulder.....Mulder." Skinner had to repeat his name several times before finally getting Mulder's attention. "We have a few minutes before we board. Why don't you go for a walk, stretch your legs? It'll be your last chance for another few hours."

Mulder was confused. Was Skinner trying to get rid of him? Was this a suggestion or an order? And where the heck was Scully?

Sensing the confusion, Walter Skinner dropped into an available chair across from Mulder and shook his head at the younger man, before looking up at him.

"Don't you ever rest, Mulder? Aren't your eyes starting to cross from reading continuously for....." Skinner looked down at his watch before continuing, ".....almost three straight hours? You're making me feel old, Mulder."

Mulder had to smile at his boss' rare descent into jocularity. In fact, until now Mulder hadn't even been sure Skinner knew how to joke. He closed the file of the last victim and put it in his briefcase, then stood and stretched. He looked around again for Scully, slightly concerned at the circumstance that could have led to her being gone without his being aware of the fact.

He looked back at Skinner and asked the obvious question. "Where's Scully?"

The ten second silence seemed to stretch for much longer and Mulder became even more concerned. Had something happened to Scully and he'd been so out of it that he forgot? Impossible....wasn't it?

"Mulder, Scully went to get us some dinner at the deli a few gates up. She left about ten minutes ago." Skinner found himself talking slowly and succinctly, as if to a dense child, and tried to shake himself of the vision just generated. Before Mulder could respond, the object of their discussion returned, arms carrying bags and a cup holder.

"Hey there. Mulder, grab these drinks will you? I got orange juice and tomato juice, and turkey and ham sandwiches." Scully ignored the look of dismay Mulder sent her way. She knew he didn't drink juice unless forced due to impending dehydration and here she was trying to push two different kinds at him.

Mulder sent a look to Skinner and confirmed that there would be no help from that quarter.

"Gee, thanks Scully, that was very kind of you."

"If looks could kill, Mulder."

"Hey, did I say anything? I just thanked you. I appreciate that you're concerned about my welfare. But if you really want to do something to help me, you can get me a cup of coffee, black."

Skinner was glad he wasn't on the receiving end of the look Scully was giving Mulder right now. He'd seen better men fold under such pressure. It was a good thing these two liked each other.

"Drink your juice, Mulder, and if you're very good and drink all of it, and if you eat your sandwich, I might let you have a cup of coffee on the plane."

"Let???" Mulder looked over at Skinner with a grin. "Sir, doesn't this constitute harassment by a fellow agent? I think I have the right to bring charges for this type of behavior, don't I?"

The announcement to board the flight came at just the right moment, saving Skinner from the need to respond. He quickly stood and gathered his belongings. Mulder merely grabbed his briefcase and slung it over his shoulder, his other hand still carrying the drinks. The word "coward" could be heard muttered softly, as they moved to the gateway.

* * *

Skinner sat in essentially the same seat as the flight before, across from and one row behind his agents. The plane was slightly smaller this leg and Mulder and Scully sat next to one another in a row with two seats on their side and three on the other. Skinner wasn't sure what Scully had said, but she'd evidently managed to convince Mulder to eat, drink his juice and even sleep, all with minimal complaint.

Mulder hadn't even twitched for the past hour. Skinner sent a silent prayer for sweet dreams and leaned back in his seat to consider once again the upcoming hours. They'd be landing soon and would have a full night ahead of them. Jenkins had called a meeting of the entire team for that evening. They'd have time to check into the hotel and kick back for about a half hour or so before they'd have to leave again.

The announcement to prepare for landing interrupted Skinner's musings. He put his notes away in his briefcase and leaned forward to check on his agents. He could see that Scully was also fast asleep, and had curled towards her partner, her head resting lightly against his shoulder. Mulder's head was turned down towards Scully, as if to watch over her even in sleep.

Skinner knew his agent's hadn't crossed the line, despite office rumor, and that they probably never would, at least while the X-Files drove them. Both were too professional and, he believed, not fully aware of their feelings for one another. He didn't doubt that they loved each other, but recognized the pure love that went beyond friendship, beyond kinship, but remained strictly a love of the spirit and not the body.

Skinner leaned forward and gently shook Mulder's arm, releasing it when he saw the man start to move. He saw his agent raise his head and look around to get his bearings, before turning to wake his partner. Skinner closed his eyes again, not wanting to intrude, so he missed the sight of Mulder gently pushing the hair away from Scully's face and then dropping his hand to her rub her arm slowly, tracing a path up and down, to waken her.

"Hey, Scully, rise and shine. We're almost there." As his partner slowly sat straight and stretched her neck, Mulder joked, "Hey, you drooled on me again," for which he received a punch in the arm.

Mulder suddenly felt self-conscious when he remembered that he and Scully weren't flying alone this trip. He looked back to ask Skinner a question and was relieved to see the man sitting with his eyes closed.

"Sir?"

Skinner immediately opened his eyes and addressed his agent. "Yes, Mulder?"

"I was wondering, sir, about transportation. We'll need at least two cars. I didn't get a chance to talk with Kimberly before I left so I was just curious what arrangements had been made."

"Actually, Mulder, for now we've only got one reserved. Agent Janice Anderson out of the Oklahoma office was assigned to the team about three months ago and she'll drive Scully when necessary. She's also an M.D. and evidently knows Dana. Since Janice oversaw the last three autopsies, it makes sense for her to be involved. I'll either be at the command center or with you or will be able to obtain transportation if needed."

Mulder nodded in acquiescence and responded with a polite, "Thank you, sir," before leaning back to prepare for landing.

* * *

**Tuesday, 6:21 p.m.**   
**Minneapolis/St. Paul International Airport**

"So, Sir, does the Federal Government have a contract with Ford, or something? Why do we always end up with a Ford Taurus?"

"Get in the car, Mulder."

For a minute the two men looked at each other, Mulder glancing down to the keys in Skinner's hand, Skinner looking at Mulder's hand approaching the driver's door handle. Scully could almost feel the testosterone permeating the air between the two men.

"This is ridiculous." Scully stepped between them, grabbed the keys out of Skinner's hand and pushed Mulder out of the way. "I'll drive. Get in the car, both of you."

Skinner couldn't remember being so shocked in his recent memory. The mirror image of shock on Mulder's face was enough to break him out of his frozen stupor. A grin broke across both their faces almost simultaneously.

"I've learned not to argue when she uses that tone. I think we better get in or she might leave us here." Mulder grinned and opened the back door, slipping easily into the seat behind Scully. Skinner quickly made his way around to the passenger side and also climbed in, while trying to give Scully an intimidating look....somewhat unsuccessfully, however, as she wasn't even looking at him.

Mulder had already pulled files and portable computer out of his briefcase and was busily typing, unaware once again of his surroundings. Skinner directed Scully as she navigated her way out of the airport and towards the local FBI office. Their hotel was supposedly located just down the street from the Minneapolis Bureau.

* * *

**Tuesday, 6:49 p.m.**   
**Minneapolis Center Hotel**

"I'm sorry, sir, we only have two rooms available. I can't imagine what could have happened." The young clerk looked nervously between an intimidating Skinner and an irate Mulder. She had become reasonably good at dealing with the numerous Federal Agents who had invaded the hotel some months ago, but these two seemed particularly dangerous -- even threatening.

Scully focused on the two men standing tensely in front of the counter as she walked through the door. Why in the world did they look like they were ready to draw their guns on that poor girl?

Silence had reigned for a good thirty seconds that felt more like minutes. The clerk was about to call her manager to handle the situation when Skinner finally responded.

Scully heard Skinner talking as she walked across the lobby towards them.

"Okay, fine. Mulder, it looks like we'll have to share temporarily."

Scully could see Mulder tense even more, his jaw working silently. She understood the problem immediately and knew that Mulder would never object on his own. "Sir, I don't think that would be a good idea."

Both Skinner and Mulder turned to look at Scully, Skinner confused and Mulder relieved. He trusted Scully to pull a good one out of her hat for him.

"Sir, you'd never be able to sleep. Mulder can't work without the TV or radio on and on a case like this he often works through the night. He'd drive you crazy."

Well, it wasn't exactly the rabbit Mulder had been expecting, but whatever worked. Mulder held his breath in expectation, hoping Skinner had bought it. While nothing Scully said was really incorrect, she'd left out the part that when he did finally sleep, it was generally for a few hours only to be awakened by horrific nightmares, generally accompanied by screams that would give heart failure to any unsuspecting listeners.

Skinner once again realized that Scully was trying to tell him something beyond her words. He'd have to trust her on this one, especially since Mulder stood patiently as if waiting to have sentence pronounced against him. He merely nodded at his agents and then turned back to the clerk.

"Can we see your manager please?"

* * *

"Well, never let it be said that intimidation and name dropping doesn't sometimes pay."

Skinner grimaced at his agent's flippant remark. He and Mulder stood in the living area of their two bedroom suite, surveying the luxurious accommodations. Each room had its own bath and there was a kitchenette off the living area. Scully was settling in across the hall in a double room.

Mulder nodded at the large table in the corner of the living room. "This'll make a good work area."

He dropped his briefcase and one suitcase by the table and Skinner realized for the first time that the younger man had been carrying all the case files by himself.

Skinner nodded silently. "We actually have about an hour still. We're scheduled to meet with the team at eight. Tell Scully we'll meet here at nineteen-twenty to review our position and outline goals for the meeting tonight."

Mulder smiled inwardly when Skinner reverted to military time. He was sure Skinner was oblivious to his slip. "Yes, sir, I'll tell Scully."

* * *

Scully felt greatly refreshed after her quick shower. Knowing Mulder, the meeting tonight with the existing team would not be brief, so she was happy to have had the opportunity to change. That is, it wouldn't be brief unless he pissed absolutely everyone off immediately.

Skinner answered her knock on their door and stood back, gesturing her in. "Wow." It was the only word she could get out past her awe. The word 'luxurious' didn't seem to do the room justice.

She finally noticed that Skinner had also taken the time to shower and change while Mulder had evidently spent the time setting up his own command center at the back of the room. He'd moved various pieces of furniture and taken a couple pictures off the walls to provide the space he needed. Photos and index cards were taped in their place. Scully wondered briefly what the manager was going think about tape residue on his expensive wall paper.

"Scully."

She walked over to her partner and nodded to indicate she was listening.

"You read the pathology reports on the plane. What do you think?"

"It appears very straightforward. Toxicology confirms absolutely no foreign substances introduced before or after kidnapping, at least none that left any trace. Obvious strangulation in all cases, although the beatings were so severe in two of the cases to have resulted in initiation of shut down of some bodily systems. They would have died even without the strangulation. The sexual assaults were all of the same nature, foreign implement, no semen, occurring before the beatings."

Mulder was standing with his back to Scully and Skinner, one arm wrapped around his chest, the elbow of the other resting on it with his hand rubbing his chin, staring at the crime scene photos on the wall. He'd been nodding at each point, as if confirming some internal checklist. Scully went on with her summary.

"I see no reason at this time to re-autopsy any of the victims. I will need to speak with all the pathologists who performed the autopsies, though. I'll determine then whether any further tests need to be implemented."

Mulder, realizing Scully was finished, turned towards her. "Oral, anal, vaginal?"

His abrupt segue caught Skinner off guard, but not Scully. She'd worked with Mulder too many times to be thrown so easily.

"Yes, when possible."

"Violent?"

"Yes, very."

Skinner realized then that Mulder had not read these parts of the reports. On purpose or because of a lack of time? The monotone questions continued in a short hand that even Skinner was finding hard to follow.

"Intentional?"

The act or the violence, Skinner wondered. Scully evidently had no problem following the discussion.

"Not sure. I'll find out."

"Order?"

"Unknown."

Mulder was pacing now, and Skinner could practically see the wheels spinning. "I can't help thinking it's important, Scully."

"I'll find out."

Mulder had stopped now in front of the photo of the fifth victim, the ten year old girl. This photo held almost no correlation to the little girl's school picture. Skinner decided it was time to get involved.

"Mulder, now that you've read all the reports, what do you suggest for tonight?"

Skinner would not play games with his agents behind closed doors. He wanted it made clear that he was Mulder's to command on this case, even if it couldn't appear this way in front of the team.

Mulder drew a deep breath and walked over to the table, pulling out written notes and bringing up a file on the computer.

"Sir, I've made a list of the teams I believe should be formed tonight. As I mentioned before, they've abandoned some lines of inquiry that I believe to be crucial in tracking this guy down. I've made notes here on priorities and possible distributions of effort amongst the teams. They'll be resistant to changing their approach, sir. They're comfortable now, have been working in the same teams for months."

Mulder glanced at Skinner to be sure his boss understood what he meant. Skinner would possibly be as unpopular as 'Spooky' for awhile.

"I've started a profile but it's too soon to discuss it with the team......" He debated with himself whether it was too early to discuss it with Skinner and finally decided to throw up his straw man.

"I believe the present profile to be almost totally wrong. Our killer is a middle- aged man, 35-45 years old, a professional, married, no children. He's a first time offender, no prior record. In fact, I believe that to this point, he's probably been a model citizen. Some event, a life-altering event, triggered this behavior. We have to determine the event. The pattern is still the key. If we find the pattern, it might lead us to the trigger."

Mulder was staring at Skinner, waiting for him to laugh, to call him Spooky, to tell him he was crazy. His boss did none of those things. Instead, the man looked at him kindly and with what seemed to be respect.

"Mulder, I don't know how you do what you do. I only know that you do it well. I'm not going to question whether you are right or wrong at this time. I only ask that you not dismiss alternatives until you have good reason, and then you explain to me what those reasons or rationales are, in private, of course. I'll back you as long as I believe we are continuing to make progress. Also, Mulder," and here Skinner found himself pausing, asking himself whether he really wanted to voice his concern, "Mulder, I want you to know that you can trust me on this. I won't necessarily agree with everything you suggest but I'll respect your opinion and listen seriously."

The younger man looked stunned, so used to derision and scorn from his colleagues that this vote of confidence and support was almost more than he could handle.

Scully decided to break the almost uncomfortable silence by reminding them of the time. "I think we better get a move on, gentlemen. We've got about fifteen minutes to get there."

Scully watched her partner, still dazed, struggle into his suit jacket and then start gathering his notes and computer. She looked over at Skinner and smiled her thanks. He got the message.


	3. Chapter 3

**Tuesday, 7:52 p.m.**   
**Minneapolis F.B.I. Building**

Walter Skinner knocked lightly on Jenkins' partially open door. He'd sent his agents on to the conference room in the hopes of talking with Jenkins before the briefing. He was pleased to see his old friend again. It had been some three or so years since they'd last seen each other in person, although they'd had occasion to talk by phone since then. Jenkins looked up and smiled.

"Walt, it's good to see you again, although these aren't exactly the most desirable circumstances." The two men shook hands briefly, the familiarity of the gesture not lost on either of them.

"Good to see you, too, Dave. How have you been?"

Jenkins gestured the other man into his office and towards a couch. He then very deliberately closed the door before sitting in the chair across from his friend.

"Walt, I'll tell you, this case is killing me. Quite frankly, I'm not up to it. I don't know if anyone is, to be fair. I'm hoping Mulder will be. God knows we need a fresh perspective." He took a deep breath and looked away from Skinner before continuing. "The truth is we're going nowhere here. Been chasing our tails for the past two months."

His eyes seemed to be focused on something across the room. Skinner followed his gaze to a collection of photos taped to the wall behind his desk. Photos on walls. God. Skinner didn't need to make out the details, he knew what they were. His old friend was looking at him once again, not even trying to hide the frustration anymore.

"We have maybe two weeks - if we're lucky. It's not just a death sentence for some poor child, it's like we're all on death row. Everyone's edgy, frustrated.......helpless, although you won't get anyone to admit that. I know you didn't want Mulder involved, and believe me, I understand why. But, he's our last chance here, Walt. No one in the VCS has been able to provide any possibilities, any leads, nothing."

Skinner nodded his understanding.

"You know, Mulder worked a case here about eight years ago. He was so young."

Jenkins smiled at Skinner as he remembered the encounter.

"Cocky, in fact. Presumptuous, bold. He pissed everyone off in less than ten minutes. A record, I think."

Skinner was now smiling also. He could imagine a younger Mulder, even more full of himself than he was now. He understood where Jenkins was coming from.

"But, you know, Walt, he was right, too. About everything. I really don't believe it was arrogance, he knew he was right and just didn't have time to waste on us idiots who weren't fast enough to keep up with him. He saved a woman, ignored all sorts of regulations, alienated just about everyone in the process, but he saved her. Took out the bad guy himself in fact. I was very impressed. Also worried."

At this, Skinner looked at Jenkins intently, waiting for more insight.

"He was ready to drop by the end. He'd been here about a week and a half I think. I'm not sure whether he ever slept or ate anything. He seemed to always just....be here. He'd flown here directly from another case in Phoenix, no down time, and he already looked like Hell when he arrived. I talked with Patterson by phone, suggested that another agent might be more appropriate. He laughed. Said, 'you wanted the best, you got the best'. Told me not to worry about Mulder, he'd do the job. And he did. Before I even had a chance to tell him thanks, Patterson had shipped him off to, I don't know, Colorado, or somewhere, I can't even recall the case now. When I found out, though, I called Patterson - told him Mulder could not be sent directly out on another case, it'd kill him or get him killed. Patterson told me to mind my own 'fucking' business. Those were his words - I'll never forget it."

There was silence for a few moments as both men thought about Bill Patterson and what his involvement in the ISU had brought him. Suddenly, not even sure what brought it to mind, Skinner remembered Mulder's rumpled suit and unshaven face that morning. Was it possible that Mulder had worked through the night after getting the summary file on this case? If so, he'd now be working for something like forty plus hours with only a couple hours sleep on the plane. And had he even eaten anything other than that sandwich from the airport? Jesus, it looked like Skinner would have to become a little more involved in keeping track of these things on this case.

Skinner looked back up at Jenkins as he continued the story, more worried than ever now for his agent.

"I kept expecting to hear that he'd bought it, either from exhaustion, or from some killer he'd been tracking, or by his own weapon. Instead, I hear that this naive kid, who I thought had no political savvy whatsoever, pulled the carpet out from under Patterson himself and arranged for a transfer to his own pet project. I laughed for a week."

At this remembrance, Jenkins did indeed laugh out loud and Skinner joined him, glad to have something in the conversation to laugh about.

Skinner leaned forward on the couch and propped his arms on his knees.

"Dave, I'm sorry if I left you hanging on this too long. I know I should have sent Mulder sooner." Skinner continued over Jenkins' protests.

"No, Dave, really - I'm sorry. I don't know if Mulder can help or not. I'll be honest with you here - I've pretty much given him free reign. It'll look to the team like I'm the one giving the orders, but they're coming from Mulder. You wanted a new perspective, well he's going to give you one. He's got a preliminary profile which is 180 degrees from your present one. It won't be put forward tonight. We'll be causing enough upset for one day with reassignment of teams and responsibilities. I'm going to give him as much rope as possible and pray he doesn't hang all of us with it. I'm counting on you to be devil's advocate. Dana Scully will also play that part well. You'll like her, Dave, she's not only a good agent good and exceptional pathologist, but she....she steadies Mulder. I don't really know how else to say it."

Jenkins smiled a little in understanding and replied simply, "They're partners."

Skinner returned the smile and thanked whatever powers were watching over him for Jenkins' understanding and steadfast attitude. Even keel Jenkins. Skinner was suddenly sorry that Mulder never knew of Jenkins trouble on his behalf those many years ago. He hoped that Mulder would come to appreciate the ASAC this time around.

"Dave, in addition to providing some balanced views, I'm hoping I can count on you to help me with Mulder. I have to be honest, the only reason I'm here is to make sure he comes out of this in one piece. I saw him during the Mostow case with Patterson - and during other cases where he's slipped into profiler mode. It scares the Hell out of me how deep he goes. And besides, if I let anything happen to Mulder, Scully would kill me herself."

On that note, Skinner stood, preparing to go to the team meeting. Jenkins also stood, preceding him to the door. Before he opened it he turned to Skinner with a final remark.

"Don't worry, Walt, we'll keep your boy out of trouble."

* * *

**Tuesday, 8:08 p.m.**   
**Minneapolis F.B.I. Building, Conference Room**

"What the fuck is the problem with you, Spooky?!?!"

Skinner and Jenkins stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the tableau unfolding in the conference room. Mulder and another agent were standing across the table from one another, both tense and obviously angry, breaths coming in fast, hard bursts. Scully stood to Mulder's left, her right hand on his left arm, the other gripping the chair in front of her, angrier than Skinner had seen her in many months. It didn't appear that she was restraining Mulder in any way, but rather seemed to be drawing strength from the touch. Another agent stood next to Mulder's aggressor, gripping his arms as if to keep him from leaping across the table.

Twenty or so agents were scattered around the room, staring between Mulder and his very vocal detractor. No one but the few agents by the door were even aware of Skinner's and Jenkins' presence.

"Look, Crowley, I am not getting into it with you. I'm here to try to solve this thing, just like you. I was assigned to this case, with my partner, by the Assistant Director. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you talk to him."

Mulder was thankful he'd managed to keep his voice relatively even and steady. It was way too early in the game to be alienating these people.

Skinner was proud of both his agents discretion and decided it was time to put an end to this farce.

"That's right Agent...Crowley, is it? I assigned both Agents Mulder and Scully to this case, at the personal request of the Director. I wasn't aware your approval was required."

Walter Skinner felt the pleasure that Crowley's red face and now subservient attitude brought him. That's one to keep an eye on, Skinner told himself.

Jenkins had entered the room behind him and now stood glaring at Crowley. Everyone in the room immediately understood that Spooky hunting season was over, at least in the presence of the two men who'd just entered the conference room. Almost at once, the silence was replaced by a noisy scuffling indicating people were moving to the table and preparing for the briefing.

Skinner nodded to his two agents as he walked across the room and then introduced them to the ASAC, Dave Jenkins. Skinner mentally reviewed his earlier conversation with Jenkins, glad that, for once, he was going to prove Mulder totally wrong about something.

* * *

The briefing was mercifully short as such things went, partly because everyone involved seemed to be reeling from the shock of having essentially everything they'd done for the past seven months thrown out by an Assistant Director of the FBI, as well as by being almost completely reorganized and reassigned to different task groups. Agent Crowley wasn't the only one looking like thunder barely contained.

Skinner decided to give them time to get used to the idea of starting almost completely from scratch on a seven month old case so he didn't even open the floor for questions. He dismissed everyone with a reminder to be back tomorrow by 9 a.m. He was hoping that would not only give them a chance to cool down, but would also give Mulder a chance to rest. Of course, he and Scully could use the break as well. Skinner wasn't used to these treks across country followed by hours of work. It had been awhile since he'd spent any major time in the field.

As the disgruntled agents gradually cleared the room, Skinner sighed deeply, rested his glasses on the table in front of him and pinched the bridge of his nose. Excedrin headache number twenty-nine. Skinner noticed that Dave Jenkins had wandered over from across the room and was now standing staring at him with a grin.

"You folks don't do anything halfway, do you?"

Skinner saw that Mulder and Scully recognized the lack of animosity in the statement. "Just figured we'd try to get the worst of it out of the way as quickly as possible, Dave. Is there anyplace we could go to eat around here, someplace quiet?" Jenkins laughter reassured him that he'd got the message. Someplace close by the hotel where none of the other agents were likely to go.

"Yep, come on, I'll go with you. Gerry's learned not to expect me before eleven most evenings. She's a saint for putting up with me."

Jenkins looked over to Mulder and Scully and asked, "How's Italian sound?" Scully immediately smiled in appreciation, but Mulder seemed to be looking for some excuse to back out, fingering the stack of files in front of him on the table.

"Agent Mulder, you're coming with us - that's an order." Although spoken somewhat jokingly, Skinner wanted to make sure there would be no means of escape for the younger man.

Mulder actually seemed pained by the insistence, forehead crinkling, as if eating were nothing more than a pesky distraction keeping him from work. He heaved a sigh and started packing his briefcase, acknowledging Skinner's command with a resigned, "Yes, sir."

* * *

**Tuesday, 10:13 p.m.**   
**Minneapolis Center Hotel**

A little more than an hour later, they were back at the hotel after a good but quick dinner. Both Scully and Mulder stood staring at the wall of photos at their mini-control center in the suites living room. At dinner, Mulder had relaxed enough with Jenkins to discuss some of his thoughts pertaining to the profile he was developing on their killer. Jenkins was curious about his insistence of a pattern for both the victim choice and the dumping site. All that Mulder could say was that he believed there were patterns, but he couldn't explain why.

Mulder and Scully were now focusing on this issue of victim selection pattern, since Mulder was positive the pattern was the key. Skinner came out from his room dressed in jeans and sweater, ready to put in a couple hours before turning in. He stood behind Scully and joined his agents at looking at the photos. They were placed left to right, in order of crime, each showing the crime scene with victim graphically displayed. Mulder broke the silence, finally.

"I want to focus on victim choice first." Mulder turned away from the wall and sat at the table, pulling a stack of large index cards in front of him. He began writing on the first. "On each card, I want victim number, victim name, age, sex, location of kidnapping, date of kidnapping, date of murder. Number and name, upper left hand corner. Age, upper right hand corner. Sex, lower left. Date of kidnapping and murder, lower right. Location of kidnapping, middle. Make three sets, one for each of us. We can use these to try out different pattern possibilities."

Scully and Skinner both moved to the table to help, one on either side of Mulder. They quickly had three sets of seven cards filled with the pertinent information.

Mulder adopted an almost professorial tone, evidently pleased for a change to have such willing students.

"There are two possibilities that I see, if we accept the idea of a pattern. Either he knew of the victims or he found them. It's an important distinction, because it means that he either had a pool to draw from so that he could find the right match or he had to work to seek out the right type. Let's assume first that he knew them, or knew of them, and therefore, had a pool of potential victims. In this case, we can safely assume he would have certain information pertaining to the pool. This information would most likely include the child's name and sex, and possibly the age. Since some children were taken from home, it's reasonably safe to assume he had access to addresses. However, since only three of the victims were taken from their homes, it is unlikely that addresses are involved in the pattern. So we needn't include that information on the cards."

Mulder stood up from the table, holding his set of cards in front of him.

"I suggest we focus first on names, ages, and kidnapping location. Scully, why don't you take names, I'll take ages, and sir, you can take location. Try to consider every conceivable possibility. Don't throw an idea out because it seems silly. Quite often, it's the silly idea that pans out. I'm going to work on the floor over here for awhile."

At this Mulder actually looked embarrassed and gave a self-deprecating shrug. "I prefer to have lots of room to spread out."

A little over an hour later, Skinner stood from the table and stretched, hands resting on his lower back. Scully looked up at him and smiled before eventually following suit. She then wandered over to where Mulder was half sitting, half laying on the floor, staring at ten cards laid out in two rows of five.

"Why ten cards, Mulder?"

Her partner jerked at her question, obviously unaware that Scully was so close.

"Well, if there's a pattern based on age, which are just numbers, after all, then there's most likely a limit to the numbers, or to the number of numbers allowed in the pattern."

At Scully's still confused expression, he tried to explain his thinking further. Skinner came over to peer at the cards as well, intrigued by the 'number of numbers' comment.

"Let's say for instance that our killer has a fascination for the number one hundred and is choosing his victims so that when all is done, their ages add to the number one hundred - that would be a limit to the numbers. Or, let's say that our killer had set out to kill ten kids. Then there'd be a limit of ten victims, whose ages in some way form a pattern, a limit to the number of numbers. This is the more likely scenario of the two and the one I've been looking at first. The ages of our victims are 7, 11, 5, 13, 10, 6, and 9." As Mulder mentioned each age, he pointed to a card in his 2 x 5 arrangement. "Here, I've hypothesized that perhaps he intends to kill a total of 10 children, so have added three blank cards. I've been trying to see if there's an arrangement that might make sense."

Skinner found himself feeling totally inadequate to the task at hand. It seemed impossible that they would ever manage to chance upon the right combination. But Mulder didn't seem the least bit daunted. It was a challenge to be overcome, and he'd spent his life doing just that. What was one more, after all?

Mulder looked up at Scully to see if she understood and noticed Skinner for the first time. He sat up straighter and tried to stretch his back. Scully's forehead was slightly furrowed, a sure sign she was wrestling with something that didn't make sense to her. She knelt down next to Mulder before breaking her silence.

"But, Mulder, why would it make sense for him to predetermine the number of victims he's going to take? Couldn't he have a pattern that would be never- ending or repeating in some way? I mean, what happens if he gets his ten, or his twelve or whatever his limiting number is? Why would that satisfy him? Will he just stop then?"

Mulder smiled at his partner. He was proud of her, although she'd probably inflict serious damage on his person if he ever said such a thing out loud.

"It goes to motivation, Scully. I believe there was a specific event which triggered his spree. The event itself or the implications the event on his life are dictating the duration of the spree. It's essentially predetermined. He's gone for something like forty years, living a relatively normal life, until this thing, whatever it was, happened to him, and now he has to kill these children before he can go back to his life. Once he hits his quota, he'll be done. Mission accomplished, that's all she wrote. And by definition, he'll be satisfied." He searched his partner's face, trying to determine whether she agreed or at least understood his reasoning.

"Okay, Mulder, I understand what you're saying, but your hypothesis presupposes a trigger event which, for some unknown reason, has a built-in limiting factor. I don't see it. Even if I buy that there was an event that triggered this spree, and that murdering these children somehow frees him from the ramifications of the event, why must the number of victims be prescribed?"

"Because he has to have a goal, an end in sight. He's working towards an objective, and once accomplished he'll be able to move on with his life. He needs the metric, Scully. There has to be a limiting factor."

As Skinner listened to his two agents, he realized how truly fortuitous their pairing was. They perfectly balanced one another in personality and ideology, as well as in their approach to solving problems. The fact that they had grown so close and come to trust each other so completely must have sent a shock wave throughout the administration who had hoped to disgrace Mulder and his work.

"Okay, Mulder, if there's a limit to the number of children, or to the number of numbers - ages - then wouldn't there be an infinite number of possibilities for us to consider since we don't know what his limiting factor is?"

"Yes and no. Realistically, if he wants to eventually return to his normal existence, the limiting factor would have to be something under twenty at most...although that's still quite high. I would guess something at or under 12. That would be a year out of his life, working on this project of his. So, we're looking at combinations between seven and twelve. That's not too bad. And for all practical purposes, we could really eliminate seven and eleven, so that leaves eight, nine, ten, and twelve."

Mulder noticed a look of confusion pass across Skinner's face. The older man sat on the floor next to Scully and asked, "Why eliminate seven and eleven as limiting factors?"

"They're primes, sir. I've already ruled out any possibility of a linear pattern all the way through twenty so only rows and columns really make sense now. Can't make an even number of rows and columns out of prime numbers by definition."

Scully was nodding her head in agreement and Skinner had to admit it sounded like it made some sense to him as well. He pointed to what Mulder had on the floor in front of him. "So, what would the missing numbers - ages - be in this configuration?"

"I don't know, sir, nothing jumps out at me here."

Scully finally sat down, tucking her feet under her crossed legs. Skinner gestured again to the cards. "Mulder, do you think it's significant that there are no repeats to the ages?"

Mulder immediately nodded his head. "Yes, I can't help thinking it's intentional."

Mulder picked up the blank cards and turned them over. On the back of the three cards were written 4 yrs, 8 yrs, 12 yrs. Mulder reached to his right and grabbed two more cards on which were written 14 yrs and 3 yrs.

Scully once more questioned her partner. "But, Mulder, shouldn't you also consider the fact that some of these children looked older or younger than their actual ages? Teddy Nicols was only two weeks from his sixth birthday and looked big enough to be mistaken for a seven year old. Kirstie Sanders looked like she could have been eight or nine instead of ten."

Again, Mulder felt a surge of pride at his partner's understanding. He was aware that he had no right to feel this pride, since it had nothing to do with any accomplishment of his own. He couldn't help it though, she was his partner.

"Yes, Scully, you're right. That possibility falls under the second hypothesis wherein the killer doesn't have an available pool but rather must search out victims to meet the specified criteria. Under those conditions, it would be likely that full information wouldn't be available and that he might have to 'guess' at some details, thereby choosing victims not based on actual age, but rather projected age. I'll look at these possibilities once I've exhausted the idea that he had a victim pool to draw from."

Scully nodded at her partner. She was impressed. She'd seen him make intuitive jumps and leaps in logic. Now, Mulder was letting her participate to a greater extent then ever before in the process he used to make those leaps. She felt honored by his trust in her.

"So, what now?"

"I've already looked at eight and ten and was just ready to start with nine as the limiting factor. With nine, I'll start by assuming the missing ages to be 8 and 12, since all other numbers between 5 an 13 are already represented. If I can't find a pattern with the 8 and 12, I'll go back to blank cards for the missing two and try to see a pattern that way."

Scully put a hand on Mulder's shoulder and squeezed, then stood and stretched once again. "Okay, Mulder, I'm going back to my names. Don't hold your breath though. I'm not having any luck whatsoever."

Skinner had been staring at the cards in front of Mulder. He eventually shook his head, as if to clear it, and then also stood. "I'm going to get something to drink. Scully, Mulder? Can I get you anything?"

* * *

**Wednesday, 12:47 a.m.**   
**Minneapolis Center Hotel**

It was well past midnight and Scully was starting to see double. To exacerbate the situation, both her body and mind were still operating on East Coast time. As tired as she was, though, Scully knew Mulder had to be even more exhausted. By her calculation, he'd now been up for around forty-five hours, except for the couple hours nap on the plane. She had to get him to stop.

Scully stood and started gathering her belongings. "Well, everyone, I've had it. It's after midnight here. I think we ought to call it a night."

Mulder hadn't moved from his spot on the floor and hadn't acknowledged her words. He was staring at the three rows by three columns of cards in front of him. Scully watched him reach out and pick up a card, move it to a different row and column and pick up the card that had been there. He then put that card in a different location, repeating the process. Scully decided to be a bit more vocal. She walked over to her partner and said, "Mulder," quite loudly. His head jerked up and his eyes eventually focused on her face.

"Mulder, go to bed. You've been up for almost forty-eight hours. You have to get some sleep."

He had that driven look on his face. The one that said, 'I'm on a roll, I know I'm not getting anywhere right now, but give me just another couple minutes and I'm sure I'll turn something up'.

Scully bent down and once again placed a hand on Mulder's shoulder, gently squeezing. "Go to bed, Mulder." This time her voice almost pleaded with him and he discovered he was powerless to argue. How could he disappoint her, after all?

"Okay, Scully."

He put the card he had in his hand down and slowly climbed to his feet. It was the first time he'd moved in hours and he was feeling it in his back and shoulders. He walked his partner to the door, one hand lightly on the small of her back. He was aware that he did this, but couldn't say why, he only knew that it felt right. He opened the door for his partner and said, "Night, Scully, sleep well," as she left.

He waited to make sure she was in her room before closing the suite door. When he turned, Skinner was already turning off lights in their work area.

"Are you trying to get rid of me, sir?"

"Mulder, you promised Scully you were turning in. I'm just making sure you keep that promise."

Skinner almost laughed at Mulder's chastened expression. He'd guessed right. Mulder had been planning on going right back to work. "Go to bed, Mulder."


	4. Chapter 4

**Wednesday, 5:39 a.m.**   
**Minneapolis Center Hotel**

Skinner was awakened by a noise outside his door. He grabbed his gun on the side table and quickly got his bearings. Hotel, Minneapolis, pitch black outside. Putting on his glasses, he read the time. A little after five thirty in the morning. Slipping out of bed, he went to the bedroom door and slowly opened it, still not turning on any lights. He quickly stepped out of the doorway and raised his gun after seeing a shadowy figure cross the dark living room.

Mulder's voice finally got through to him. "Uh, sir, it's just me."

"Mulder, what the hell are you doing?"

Skinner reached out and turned on a lamp to better see his agent. Mulder sat on the sofa, in sweat pants and sweat shirt, and putting running shoes on.

"Sir, I was just getting ready to go for a run. I'm sorry if I woke you. I was trying to keep it quiet."

Skinner had already relaxed and was leaning against the door jamb. For some reason, the idea of a run appealed to him.

"Mind if I join you? I'll only be a minute."

Skinner saw Mulder pause for a moment in tying his shoes, before replying, "No, of course not, sir. I'll wait."

Five minutes later, both agents stood outside the hotel stretching. Neither had said anything once they'd left the room. As Skinner watched Mulder go through his obviously familiar stretching routine, it occurred to him that he hadn't actually done this in awhile and that Mulder could easily run circles around him.

"Mulder, just how far do you usually run, and how fast?"

Mulder smiled at the inquiry. He'd already planned on toning it down a bit. "Well, sir, usually I'd do about seven or eight miles. I probably run around a six, six and a half minute mile, depending on how far I push it."

Skinner nodded and started laughing when he realized what he'd gotten himself into.

"Don't worry, sir, I'll slow it down some. I believe we can take a four mile loop, starting down to the left, going past the bureau, through the park, and back around from the other direction. Pretty straightforward."

Skinner nodded. "I'll do my best, Agent Mulder."

After about a mile and a half they headed into the park Mulder had mentioned. The park was well-lit from street lights and had wide, smooth paths, perfect for running. Skinner was now in the groove and even began to enjoy the freedom associated with this sport he hadn't engaged in for years. While he hit the gym at least four times a week and often ran on the treadmill, it couldn't compare with being outside on a cool spring day, with the sun just starting to paint the eastern sky orange. He no longer felt the need to concentrate quite so hard on the mechanics of running so freed his mind somewhat to wander where it would.

Skinner glanced over at his agent and saw that Mulder was running easily, breathing controlled and even. Skinner realized that he hardly even knew this man, hadn't ever considered what he did in his free time, whether he had friends, enjoyed movies, played cards. Skinner had always assumed that the X-Files were Mulder's life and that his driving need to know, to discover what he perceived to be the truth, about his sister's abduction, and the involvement of the government in related conspiracies, that these truths were all Mulder cared about. His occasional glimpses into the partnership between Mulder and Scully and into their own lives never really gave him any great insights into who they were as people. He knew he admired them both greatly, and liked what he saw. Skinner resolved to himself that he would try to get to know both of them better during the next days and weeks. But first, he had to survive the next two miles.

* * *

**Wednesday, 9:03 a.m.**   
**Minneapolis Bureau, Conference Room**

"Okay people, listen up."

Skinner's voice carried easily through the noise in the room. The thirty some agents quickly quieted an looked at him expectantly. The shock of the previous night had worn off and there was a feeling akin to excitement in the air. After getting nowhere for months, they would at least have something to do, even if it were an illusion of constructive work. Most of the agents who had attended the briefing the previous night felt no resentment at being reassigned to new task groups. For some odd reason, the very fact that they would be working on something new gave hope where none had been before.

"I know that many of you were unable to attend the briefing last night but I'm sure you've heard what's happening. ASAC Jenkins requested my involvement and the assistance of Agents Mulder and Scully in this investigation. He has asked me to direct the team from here on out. Essentially, ladies and gentlemen, we are starting from scratch. Nothing has turned up in seven months and we're facing a one to two week deadline before our killer strikes again. I have identified five teams that will be working full force for at least the next several days, after which time we will reevaluate resources and determine whether modifications are required. These teams are 1 -Victim Selection Pattern Team which will be led by Agent Halston, 2 - Dumping Pattern Team, led by Agent Brewster, 3 - Profile Team, being coordinated by Agent Vickers out of the VCS, 4 - Commonality Team, headed by Agent Tresky, and 5 - Forensics Team, led by Agent Anderson. You all know what teams you've been assigned to. Agents Mulder, Scully, and I have already briefed the team leaders. I'll leave the team leaders to explain your objectives and activities over the next couple days. Agents Mulder and Scully will be working with every team as appropriate and at their discretion -- and mine."

At this Skinner paused and panned his gaze around the room, daring anyone to have a problem with anything he'd said.

"We'll be setting our temporary headquarters up in the adjacent room." Skinner gestured to the smaller conference room to the right.

"We'll be meeting with the team leaders tonight and will all meet again tomorrow evening here at 8 p.m. Kiss your husbands and wives good-bye for awhile ladies and gentlemen. You're mine for the next couple of weeks."

Skinner abruptly turned his back on the group and took the couple steps necessary to reach Scully and Mulder. Behind him, he could hear the departure of the agents, heading out to meet with their new team leaders. He raised a brow at his agents.

Mulder nodded to him, letting Skinner know he was satisfied.

"Sir, the team leaders are all good choices. They know what to do. Scully and I'll be working closely with them. I'm having all the evidence brought next door. While the teams are meeting, I want to look it over. Scully's heading out to speak with the first two pathologists. We're planning on going to the first site in about two hours, so we'll leave from here around noon."

"All right. Keep me apprised of where you'll be at all times. I'm meeting with Dave Jenkins to discuss the case. If you can't reach me through him, get me on my cell phone. I'd like to join you on a couple of the sites at least."

Both his agents nodded and then went their separate ways, after a verbal exchange that was too soft for Skinner to hear.

* * *

**Wednesday, 11:26 a.m.**   
**Minneapolis Bureau, Command Center**

Mulder sat alone at one end of the conference table in their temporary headquarters, amidst stacks of boxes, each prominently marked with a five digit number followed by a date. He had an open box next to him that corresponded to evidence retrieved from the first crime scene. The box was full of bags, each tagged with a number and initials to indicate investigating officer. The police had released the evidence to the Minneapolis Bureau, relieved to be no longer responsible for it.

Mulder quickly established a procedure for looking through the box of evidence. Pick up a bag, compare identification number and contents to the list on the table beside him, check it off, go to the next item. Every once in awhile, a piece of evidence would be intriguing enough to cause a break in the pattern. Mulder would then open the bag, often turning the item, feeling the texture, sometimes staring at it for as long as a minute, before returning it to its bag and moving on to the next item.

When he reached the string of shoelaces, he stood, carrying the bag with him to the end of the table, where another set of case files sat. He opened the first and sorted through the pages until he found the photo he'd been looking for -- a particularly gruesome view of the crime scene. Mulder pulled the photo out of the file and stood staring at it. He finally placed the photo on the table and then removed the shoelaces from the bag.

He held them loosely on his open hands. They were so light. He could hardly even feel the weight. It was hard to believe they could be responsible for the death of a child. Mulder closed his eyes and slowly wrapped his fingers around them. They felt practically new, smooth, except for the small knot tying them together.

Opening his eyes, he gripped one end of the string firmly in his left hand and with the right hand very deliberately stretched the length taut. He wrapped the laces around each hand, once, twice, still stretching them tightly. He allowed his head to drop back and again closed his eyes for a heartbeat, two, three.

This was what it felt like. The blood was slowly being cut off to his fingers. They began to tingle, first at the tips, gradually spreading up, to the knuckles, even to the palm. His hands started to throb, suddenly heavy. It was almost sensuous. The muscles in his arms were now straining against the tension. His entire body was rigid. His breathing sped up, became slightly erratic.

Mulder opened his eyes again, blinded for a moment by the overhead light. He then looked down at the table where the photo lay, taking in, yet again, the details.

The photo drew him in, surrounded him, invaded him. He didn't fight it. He wanted it -- he needed it. Mulder was there, standing by the body -- Kevin Foster's seven year old body -- each wound horribly visible, the sexual assault obvious, the young skin offering silent testimony to the heinous violation. The stench of death invaded Mulder's nostrils. Blood, urine, vomit -- the perverted perfume of innocence lost. As if physically present, Mulder was immersed in the sight and smells of violent end. He stood looking down on the youthful face, twisted horribly in pain, frozen by death's stamp.

It was too much, too soon.

Mulder tore his eyes away and gasped as if he had been holding his breath for minutes. He threw the shoestring garrote on the table and stumbled to the near wall where he dropped to his knees and proceeded to lose everything in his stomach into a trash can.

He eventually became aware of a hand gripping his shoulder and opened his eyes to see a paper towel by his head. Mulder took it, still not sure who was there and not really caring. He was too exhausted, too miserable.

After rubbing the paper towel over his mouth and chin, Mulder threw it in the trash, folded the plastic edges of the trash bag down into the can, and moved to stand. A hand entered his view, offering assistance, and he took it, finally looking up at his benefactor. He wasn't surprised to see AD Skinner standing above him, a worried expression on his face.

"I'm sorry, sir. I..... it must have been.... something I ate." It sounded like a pathetically weak excuse even to his own ears. Mulder ran one slightly shaking hand across his forehead to remove the light sheen of sweat that had taken up residence, eyes bouncing from the ground in front of him to the far wall, anywhere but on his boss.

Skinner had still not said a word. He decided not to let Mulder know just how long he'd been in the room. "Mulder, the Forensics team wants to get access to whatever evidence you don't need right now. They didn't want to disturb you. Also, Agent Scully phoned. She'll be here in about half an hour."

Skinner quickly revised his own schedule in his mind. He decided he wanted to stay close to Mulder today. "I'll be accompanying you this afternoon to the crime scenes."

Skinner looked around the room briefly, taking in the stacks of boxes in disarray. He needed time to think and used the survey as a delaying action. Mulder still stood quietly, arms hanging at his sides, a now blank expression on his face, working hard to calm his breathing.

"Look, Mulder, why don't you check in with the team leaders before we head out. Tell me what you need to bring with you to the crime scenes and I'll arrange for it to be gathered."

Mulder looked at his boss then, the feeling of relief coursing through him almost tangible. Could Skinner somehow know? Could he possibly understand? From his time in the VCS, Mulder was used to suffering through these cases alone. All of a sudden he found he had not only his partner looking out for him, worrying about him, but also AD Skinner, his hard-ass, take no prisoners boss.

Mulder took a slightly shaky breath, nodded, and replied, "Yes, sir. I do need to coordinate with them. I'll need crime scene photos, and all the ..... garrotes." He rushed on, as if afraid Skinner would object. "I'll meet you back here in half an hour, sir."

Skinner nodded and watched the younger man head towards the door. He thanked the heavens above that he had never shown any aptitude for profiling. He knew about the men and women of the ISU in VCS who got into the killer's head, into his thoughts and feelings. After seeing only a few minutes of Mulder doing this, Skinner knew he wouldn't wish the job on his worst enemy. God help them. God help Mulder.

* * *

Scully sensed that something had happened while she was away. The two men facing her seemed tense, uneasy about something, although both smiled upon seeing her.

"Hi. Are you ready, Mulder?" Her partner nodded and then looked at Skinner. At this, Scully also looked at her boss.

"I'll be accompanying you this afternoon, Scully. Agent Brewster is lending us Patty Sachs. Agent Sachs is intimately familiar with all the crime scenes and will be driving us. We're meeting up with her out front."

Scully nodded at this words and looked again at her partner. He seemed to be taking the news of two additions to the party well. "Let's go, sir."

Trust Scully not to waste time.

Skinner led the way through the building, giving Scully the chance to drop behind to walk with her partner. She spoke to him loudly enough so Skinner could hear her update.

"Mulder, nothing new turned up this morning. I still need to talk with the other two pathologists involved. Janice Anderson is arranging it for first thing tomorrow morning. I'll be speaking with her at greater length this evening. I don't expect anything really groundbreaking to come of it, though."

Scully had been watching her partner take in the news and was concerned by his pallor. She put her hand on his arm, leaned towards him and asked him quietly, hoping her inquiry wouldn't reach Skinner, "Are you Okay?" He looked at her then, really looked at her, and managed a small smile of reassurance with an accompanying nod.

They had reached the front door and were greeted by a young agent who didn't seem old enough to have even graduated high school. He had a box in his arms. Skinner preempted the young man with a, "Follow us to the car, please," and breezed out the door, then held it open for the other agents.

They could see Agent Sachs standing on the curb, watching their progress. As they reached her, there were nods of acknowledgment all around.

The last thing Patty Sachs ever expected to be doing was playing chauffeur and waitress to Spooky Mulder, the Ice Queen, and the Assistant Director. It was more than slightly daunting, and greatly annoying. She was still bristling a bit from the call she'd received twenty minutes ago instructing her to arrange for juice and coffee for them, and while she was at it, how about get some bottled water. Who the hell did they think they were? The chauffeuring she didn't really mind. To be fair, she was not only driving them, but was also there to provide details on the crime scenes. She'd been involved almost from the beginning so few other agents had her perspective. It was the damn order to 'wait' on them. Oh well, 'ours is not to question why', she reminded herself.

"Hello, sirs, ma'am. I got the items you requested, sir." This last was directed at Skinner. "They're in the car. We're all set to go to the first scene. It's in St. Paul. It'll take about forty minutes at this time of day." The young woman paused a moment before going on. "Sir, there are closer sites. The fourth site is only ten minutes from here."

Skinner could see Mulder straighten noticeably out of the corner of his eye so he looked over to better gage his agent's reaction.

Mulder was shaking his head and finally said, "No, we have to see them in order."

Skinner nodded acknowledgment and returned his gaze to Agent Sachs. "We'll see the first one. Could you pop the trunk Agent Sachs, so we can store this?"

Skinner gestured to the box the young agent had been patiently holding. He saw Mulder move once again, a jerky movement, as if he stopped his actions before finishing. He looked over at the younger man. Mulder was evidently debating with himself. Skinner could guess at what.

"Mulder, Scully, perhaps we can take the time during the drive to plan the evening's objectives and discuss developments from this morning." Mulder merely nodded and moved around the car to enter the back seat from the driver's side. Scully also moved to the back seat, leaving Skinner to sit up front with Patty Sachs.

Once in the car, Skinner turned to the female agent sitting next to him. "Agent Sachs, I apologize if you got stuck getting coffee and refreshments for us. I know you have better things to do with your time. Unfortunately, on such short notice, you ended up with the short straw. All I can say is that we greatly appreciate it and next time, I'll play fetch."

Patty Sachs didn't know how to react. The Assistant Director just begged for her forgiveness and promised to 'fetch' coffee for her. Was that supposed to happen? She finally collected herself enough to reply. "No problem, sir. I know things are hectic right now. It was my pleasure."

Skinner smiled at her wryly, letting her know he understood that it wasn't really, but that it was Okay. He then reached towards the bags sitting on the seat next to him and opened one at random. He pulled out a couple small cartons of orange juice and passed them to the back seat, not asking Mulder or Scully if they actually even wanted them.

"Mulder, I remember how much you enjoyed this on the plane." He could hear Scully's light, appreciative laugh as he turned to look in another bag. Coffee. Smelled wonderful but that could wait a bit. He opened the third to find the bottled spring water. He pulled two out and passed these back as well. He knew Mulder had to be dehydrated.

Skinner was used to missing meals and rarely ate lunch. Missing a meal this afternoon would be no hardship for him. He wasn't so sure about Scully, still thin after her ordeal with cancer, and Mulder always looked like he could use a few extra pounds on his frame. But Skinner knew better than to suggest eating just before viewing the crime scenes where seven small children were dumped after being brutalized and murdered. He just prayed they'd get through the afternoon as quickly as possible.

* * *

**Wednesday, 1:17 p.m.**   
**Gas Station and Automobile Repair, St. Paul (First Crime Scene)**

Mulder stood in the center of the still deserted garage. The yellow crime scene tape had long since fallen to shreds and remaining bits here and there fluttered in response to the light afternoon breeze. A mustiness permeated the air. The building had been closed for more than seven months now.

The garage was attached to a gas station that had been targeted for renovation some eight months ago. The owner had temporarily shut down while the renovation was initiated. Before the first counter could be replaced, the nude, maimed body of seven year old Kevin Foster was found lying in the center of the garage.

Mulder had taken about six or seven photos from the case file. He would stare at one, then would look up and around the garage, trying to match present and past. He had again removed the shoestring garrote from the evidence bag and had it wrapped around his right hand, ends trailing down either side.

Scully and Skinner stood by the garage entrance, talking with Patty Sachs. Patty had met extensively with the local police and had visited the scene with the investigating officers a couple months after the murder. The FBI hadn't been called in until the third victim had been found, since the police hadn't originally been aware they had a serial killer on their hands. Scully kept glancing over at her partner. She knew that for whatever reason, he didn't need to hear Sach's accounts.

What Mulder needed was much more intangible. He needed to get the feel for the site. He needed to 'see' everything, to see how it might have happened, the dumping of the body. Agent Sachs couldn't really help him with that.

Scully figured he had now been gazing at the photo in his hands for about four minutes without moving. She was debating whether to approach him when she realized Skinner must have been thinking along the same lines.

He walked up to Mulder's right side and intentionally stopped far enough in front of his agent that he'd be in Mulder's view, not wanting to startle the man. He realized, however, that Mulder stood with his eyes closed, not looking at the photo he was holding in front of him.

Skinner's soft, "Mulder," brought no response whatsoever. Skinner opened his mouth to speak again, more loudly, reconsidered, then looked over at Scully. Mulder seemed lost in some sort of self-induced trance. But was it really Skinner's place to intrude? Mulder had done this work for several years, and done it exceedingly well, during his time with the VCS. Perhaps this was a necessary part of Mulder's approach to solving these cases.

Scully still stood with Agent Sachs, who seemed fascinated with the play unfolding in front of her, and didn't seem to mind that both Skinner and Scully had turned away from her while she was in mid-sentence. Scully was lightly chewing on her lower lip, her arms crossed tightly across her chest. She was obviously debating whether to intrude on her partner. She didn't know the right thing to do either.

Skinner looked back at Mulder and discovered the younger man was now swaying slightly, almost unnoticeably, and his hands were beginning to shake, causing the ends of the dangling shoestrings to sway and the photo to undulate weirdly, so that there was an appearance almost of movement on the page. Sweat stood out on Mulder's forehead, one drop rolling down his right temple.

Skinner wanted to avoid another incident like that in the conference room so decided to be more aggressive in getting Mulder's attention.

Skinner gripped Mulder's forearm and again repeated his name, "Mulder", much more forcefully this time. The younger man's eyes flew open and his breath caught. He still stood frozen in the same position, but swayed to the left as if he'd lost his balance temporarily. Skinner gripped his arm more tightly and put his other hand on the younger man's shoulder to anchor him. Skinner waited a good seven or eight seconds to be sure his agent was steady before removing the hand from Mulder's shoulder and then forearm.

"Everything all right, Agent Mulder?" Skinner asked the question quietly, giving Scully the chance to become otherwise engaged. When he heard her soft voice speaking with Agent Sachs, he knew she'd got the message.

Mulder was now looking around, apparently trying to get his bearings. He actually appeared confused. Then the confusion was replaced with embarrassment and Mulder stood straight, looking once again the consummate professional. He cleared his throat before replying. "I'm fine, sir, thank you."

Mulder was furious with himself. He knew better than this. Twice now he'd allowed himself to get lost in the case with others present or nearby. Scully was one thing but Skinner. God, what had he been thinking. He'd have to be more careful the rest of the day. Hell, he'd have to be more careful the rest of this case. He could feel his jaw clench, almost on its own.

He looked back at his boss, prepared to explain, or better yet, fabricate some pacifying statement to get the man off his back. Instead, Skinner was gazing at him kindly. The words Mulder had been trying to come up with died before fully formulating. Skinner had surprised him yet again. His boss turned away, heading for Scully and Sachs, allowing Mulder to recoup.

Mulder took a last look at the garage and headed over to the other agents. He'd seen enough here.

* * *

The rest of the day proceeded in a haze for Skinner and Scully. Each site was different but oddly similar. Always a location which had been temporarily deserted or closed, but in the midst of a busy residential or commercial area. An empty house for sale, a flower shop closed while the staff was on vacation, a commercial property for rent, the gas station being renovated. Always a site where the body would be sure to be discovered within days, but where there would be a degree of privacy at night for the killer to dump the victim's body. All but two of the sites still remained empty, appearing abandoned.

They had crossed back and forth from Minneapolis to St. Paul three times. Scully and Skinner had had extensive conversations with Patty Sachs, gaining insights and impressions on each site and on the furor surrounding the discovery of the bodies. Mulder had been uninterested in hearing these details.

He had been very professional at each site, as well as thorough. He had, at times, seemed engrossed in minutiae, at other times almost bored with the surroundings. He once stared at a blank wall for no apparent reason, only to then walk to within inches of it, at which point he then turned and walked back to the middle of the room, as if pacing off the distance. At another site, Mulder placed the crime scene photos on the floor, each positioned corresponding to the scene in the photo, and then proceeded to walk from one to another, staring down at the photos, then around the room.

Scully had only seen glimpses of this Mulder before and wasn't totally sure what to make of it. She had already decided not to question him. She had doubted him in the Mostow case, hadn't trusted him, and it had almost cost him his life. She wouldn't repeat that mistake again.

Throughout the day, Agent Sachs had watched Mulder whenever possible, often surreptitiously. He was something of a legend throughout the Bureau, and she'd been surprised at how young he actually was. She had heard Spooky Mulder stories even when going through the Academy and was now seeing him operate first hand. He was certainly living up to his spooky reputation.

On the other hand, she was beginning to think Dana Scully's reputation as the Ice Queen was way off base. Sachs had seen Scully's concerned gaze find its way to her partner over and over as the day progressed. Occasionally Scully's and Mulder's eyes would meet and perhaps a smile would be exchanged. Patty was beginning to think that maybe Fox Mulder and Dana Scully were more than just partners. And she had no idea where Skinner fit into the equation. He seemed to honestly care about his agents and had been solicitous of Mulder's health.

They were now at the last site and had been working steadily without a break beyond the car rides for seven hours. Mulder was again at the location where the body had been found, but was down on one knee, the inescapable shoestring garrote in hands. His shoulders were slumped and he seemed drained of all life and vitality. Each movement was orchestrated, deliberate, as if he had to conserve his energy and was rationing his internal accumulation carefully.

Scully had remained discreetly neutral throughout the day, but was now concerned enough to walk over and kneel down next to her partner, lightly touching his arm.

"Mulder, are you about done? We're going to have to leave soon to make the eight o'clock meeting with the team leaders tonight."

Mulder dragged his head up and nodded once. Dark circles had begun to form under his eyes.

"Come on, Mulder, let's go."

Scully gently moved her hand under his elbow and started to pull, lending him her support. She had gathered the photos in her other hand and now guided Mulder to the exit. He didn't seem to see Skinner and Sachs standing by the door. Scully merely nodded to them and walked out to the car with Mulder, opening the door for him. He practically fell into the car and closed his eyes, quickly falling asleep. Scully walked around to the other side of the car and waited for Skinner to approach.

"How's he doing, Agent Scully?"

"I don't know, sir. I'm not sure what he was doing today, what it accomplished, beyond the obvious. But, sir, Mulder does know what he's doing."

Skinner merely nodded and then looked closely at Scully. He had managed to forget for awhile how near she had been to death mere months before. He wasn't convinced she was fully recovered, and here he was subjecting her to additional worry over her partner.

"And how are you doing, Dana?"

Scully smiled. Mulder wasn't the only one who could cut through her defenses by the simple use of her first name.

"I'm fine, sir." They both smiled at the familiar phrase. "We better get going, sir. We've got a briefing in about a half hour."


	5. Chapter 5

**Wednesday, 8:07 p.m.  
Minneapolis Bureau, Command Center**

The command center had undergone a startling transformation during their absence. On one of the twenty foot walls was a 6 x 6 grid, created by masking tape, taking up most of the wallspace. A couch sat against the opposite wall. Along two thirds of the far thirty foot wall were taped photos, index cards of varying size, and a collection of bagged items. Long vertical strips of 3" wide masking tape provided clear demarcations between each case. The bags with the shoestring garrotes had been added to their appropriate locations, making the wall a sick tribute to one man's evil. Under each section, one or two boxes lay pushed against the wall, each containing the remainder of the evidence pertaining to that case.

Mulder stood leaning against the opposite wall, one arm across his chest, the other propped on top of it with hand on chin. No clear details were obvious from the twenty foot distance, but still he stared, oblivious to the others now filing into the room. The thirty minute nap he'd managed in the car had somewhat rejuvenated him and he felt ready now for the hours ahead.

Their command center had quickly become crowded with the five team leaders, ASAC Jenkins, Skinner, Scully and Mulder. The crisp professional look of the morning was long gone. Jackets had been discarded, sleeves rolled up, ties hung loosely askew. The two women had also shed their jackets and Janice Anderson had even changed from heels into tennis shoes.

Skinner caught Scully looking at Anderson's feet in envy. What was with those heels she wore anyway? He'd often wondered how Scully had managed to operate in the field for five years without breaking an ankle. He guessed her 5'2" natural height had something to do with it.

The kid from the morning poked his head in the room and then walked over to ASAC Jenkins. Skinner saw them confer briefly and then Jenkins nodded and gestured to the conference table in the middle of the room. The young agent left the room only to appear moments later followed by yet another kid, arms full of bags. Evidently, dinner had arrived. Jenkins was at Skinner's side now.

"Walt, I took the liberty. I know none of my agents have eaten since lunch and I figured you wouldn't have had the time either. I hadn't realized until just a bit ago how long it's been since we've done this so late. I guess we had pretty much given up."

His disgusted expression turned bitter and then his face smoothed once again. Skinner could guess at the self-recriminations and found himself at a loss as to what to say. He merely reached out to grip his old friend's shoulder for a second, hoping to convey his understanding, then moved towards the head of the table. Time to get this show on the road.

"Okay, people, load up and then let's get started. We have a lot of ground to cover still tonight."

A burst of activity ensued as the hungry agents moved to grab sandwiches, drinks and cartons with unnamed substances. No one particularly cared about the details. At this point, food was food, caffeine was caffeine, and both were absolutely necessary.

Skinner was relieved to see that Mulder had also grabbed something and had settled between Scully and Vickers at the table. Skinner took his own dinner and sat across from them, where Jenkins joined him. The other agents had also settled in, each with stacks of files and pages of notes in front of them. Determining that everyone was set to start discussing the day's events, Skinner kicked off the briefing.

"Okay, ladies and gentlemen, unless there's an objection, why don't we progress by the numbers tonight. Agent Halston, can you give us an idea of what your Victim Selection Team has been doing and where you're going?"

Halston pulled his stack of notes closer and rapidly swallowed, then mumbled a hasty, "Yes, sir," as he stood. He shuffled through his files until he found a stack of 5" x 7" index cards and then walked over to the 6 x 6 grid at the end of the conference table.

"I've divided my team into two groups - one of two and one of four. We've hypothesized that either the killer knows his victims or he's finding them somehow."

Halston went on to describe a scenario very much like the one Mulder had been working on the previous evening. "We're pretty sure that if there is a pattern, it will coincide with the idea of an available victim pool, which my B team is investigating, but we don't want to rule out the other possibility as yet. Now, my B team has hypothesized that the pattern coinciding with the victim pool would most likely involve ages, names, or pickup location."

Skinner and Scully exchanged quick smiles, and then both found their gazes drawn to Mulder. He was completely absorbed in Halston's briefing, as if everything the team leader was saying was totally new to him. Skinner should his head slightly in exasperation and amazement, before focusing once again on what Halston was saying.

"If the ages are the key to pattern, then, we'll most likely see some grid relationship forming the pattern. We've exhausted any linear pattern possibilities and have moved on to possibilities with rows of two." He used the 6 x 6 grid on the wall to explain the various combinations they were investigating.

Scully found herself interested in the approach Halston was outlining for his B team. They had arrived at most of the same conclusions and hypotheses as Mulder, but their plan for testing the hypotheses was slightly different. They weren't necessarily assuming a limit to the 'number of numbers', as Mulder had, and were progressing more conservatively through every combination.

Scully was surprised that Mulder didn't object to the slower approach the team was taking. A look at her partner revealed that he was nodding his head at Halston's words, still looking interested and content at their progress. On the pad in front of him, however, Scully saw that he had drawn a grid of 3 x 3, thick black pen marks indicating that he had drawn over the lines again and again. To the right of the grid he'd created a column of numbers: 7, 11, 5, 13, 10, 6, 9, then a space and an 8 and then a 12 next to it. He'd circled the 8 so many times that it was almost illegible amongst the darker lines around it.

Skinner had also wondered at Mulder's silence, but decided to take it as a sign that there was no objection to the approach Halston's teams was implementing. After entertaining a few clarifying questions from the other team leaders, Halston outlined their activities for the next day and then moved to sit down again.

The briefing continued as each team leader brought the others up to date on their hypotheses, actions that day, and tasks for the next day or two. The only real excitement came when Vickers reviewed the results of the profiling team's day. It seemed there were two completely different profiles being developed and a substantial friction was growing between opposing agents within the team. Not unexpectedly, it was Hank Crowley who was most vocal in objecting to the 'new' profile. The original team had developed a profile of a young male, probably 20-25, unmarried, living at home with parents. The new profile, being put forth by Vickers (and in reality fed to him by Mulder), hypothesized the killer was a much older man, between 35 and 45 years, married, no children likely, with a professional career.

Vickers explained to the group, "It's causing a strain. Nothing I can't take care of. Just thought you should be aware that we have two competing views at present. This will impact the other teams, obviously, since you'll need the profile to start refining your own hypotheses. I would suggest that unless it become critical for your people, you allow me to continue with my team through tomorrow and we should have a preliminary resolution by the joint meeting tomorrow evening."

He was looking at Mulder as he said this last and was reassured to see Mulder nod minutely in confirmation. Both knew what the resolution to the situation would be, but the others in the room weren't privy to the details. It could wait until tomorrow at least, if not longer.

Mulder continued to sit passively, listening to the questions being fired off at Vickers. Eventually, the team leaders were content and they moved on to the next team's report.

By eleven, Skinner was ready to drop and called a halt to the meeting. It was obvious that each team was working efficiently and effectively. If they were to continue to do so, they'd need their leaders to be at their best and that wouldn't happen if Skinner wore them down prematurely.

The agents around the table stood and then slowly began heading out. Mulder and Scully still sat at the table, Mulder slouched low in his chair, Scully leaning forward at the table, still writing on the pad in front of her. Mulder stood, stretched tight muscles, and then leaned over his partner slightly, touching her shoulder.

"Come on, Scully, let's head home."

Scully was amused at Mulder's choice of words. It sounded so ... domestic. What they were doing was as far from domestic as you could get.

Her partner now had both hands on the back of her chair, obviously prepared to pull it out for her as she stood. It was odd that this didn't bother her. She had fought hard to be considered an equal by her male counterparts. But Mulder's solicitousness in no way affected the way he viewed her and depended on her. He counted on Scully to watch his back and no matter how many doors he opened for her or chairs he pulled out, nothing would ever change that trust.

Scully nodded to her partner and gathered her notes and files, rising slowly. She stood for a moment and let her head fall to the right, then left, stretching her neck. She then put one hand up to the back of her neck and rubbed for a moment before picking up her notes. Both agents put their discarded jackets back on, and left the room, waiting outside the control center until their boss joined them a couple minutes later. None of them spoke. There was no need for words to tell them what they already knew. It would only get worse.

* * *

**Wednesday, 11:51 p.m.  
Minneapolis Center Hotel ******

At the hotel, Scully moved to take her leave of the two men outside their rooms. Skinner entered the suite, leaving the partners alone. Scully squeezed Mulder's arm and held on for a minute. "Mulder, don't work too late, Okay?" She knew better than to expect he wouldn't work at all, but she could hopefully get a promise that he'd get some sleep at least.

Mulder stared down at her intently, and sighed before replying. "Scully, you don't need to baby-sit me. It's not your job to make sure I eat or sleep."

Scully raised her other hand to her partner's face, a gesture which took him completely by surprise, causing him to flinch slightly. " I know it's not my job, but it is my pleasure. Sleep well, Mulder."

Mulder stood in the doorway to the suite, watching his partner and friend enter her room. A smile finally found its way to his face. Dana Scully never ceased to amaze him.

* * *

**Thursday, 1:54 a.m.  
Minneapolis Center Hotel **

Walter Skinner was at a complete loss. He was used to giving orders and being obeyed. He was comfortable with it, familiar with it. But he didn't really have the authority to order his thirty-seven year old agent to go to bed. The mere thought of it was ludicrous.

It was now almost two in the morning and Skinner had been tossing and turning since going to bed a couple hours before. He would drift off and then jerk awake, check to see if light was still shining in under his door from the living room, lay back in frustration until he would drift off again and repeat the process. He finally decided to check on Mulder. Maybe the man had fallen asleep on the couch and all this worrying was for nothing.

Skinner got out of bed, putting his glasses on, and made his way to the door. He opened it quietly, so as not to disturb Mulder if he were sleeping. He needn't have worried.

Mulder sat on the cleared space on the floor, where he had been the previous night. He had changed into sweat pants and a T-shirt and his feet were bare. He again had his 3 x 3 grid of index cards and sat staring at them, Indian style, one hand pulling slowly and repeatedly at his lower lip. Against the wall, the TV cast eerie shadows across the room, the sound so low it didn't even reach Skinner's ears.

After standing in the doorway for half a minute watching his agent, Skinner moved into the room. "Mulder, how's it going?" Mulder looked up at him, stared through him for several long seconds, then flushed red as he finally processed who he was seeing.

"Sir, I'm sorry, did I wake you? I'll go into my room. I wasn't thinking."

The younger man had already gathered his cards and was standing before Skinner could reassure him. "No, Mulder you didn't wake me. I just got up for a drink and saw the light. Thought I'd see what you were up to. Stay where you are ... please."

Mulder sank back to the floor, nodding his head, still seeming slightly flustered. His eyes roamed the room, finally settling on Skinner.

"So, Mulder, any progress?"

Mulder looked at the cards in his hands, laid them out in a 3 x 3 grid, in a very definite order. "I've been looking at this ordering, sir."

13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5

"There are actually a couple different orderings that all achieve the same ultimate symmetry, so that whether you go across any row or down any column, there's a linear progression. For instance, across the rows, it's obvious that the numbers reduce by one from left to right. Then as you go down each column, you subtract 3."

Skinner looked at the cards and nodded in understanding. "So, is there anything about this ordering that would correspond to a pattern the killer would be using for victim selection?"

Mulder sighed and stretched slightly, a small grimace passing quickly across his face. "Look at the corners, sir. I believe I might be close to something."

Skinner tried to process the significance of the numbers 13, 11, 7, and 5, then realized they were the ages of the first four victims. Skinner suddenly felt a chill and his heart paused a beat. Suddenly, he knew, absolutely knew, with complete and utter certainty, that Mulder was, indeed, on to something. He wondered if this was how it felt for the younger man, this bolt of certainty out of the blue. Mulder was talking again.

"I don't totally see it yet, sir. Still working on a couple possibilities."

Skinner stared at the younger man, quickly calculating just how much sleep he'd had, or hadn't had, in the last three days. "Mulder, maybe it would be clearer after a few hours sleep. It might help to clear your head." Skinner waited, holding his breath lightly, hoping Mulder would get the hint. His agent paused, then nodded to him and stood, leaving the cards on the floor.

"Yes, sir. I think you're probably right. I'll see you in the morning, sir."

'In the morning???', Skinner thought to himself. What the heck did Mulder think 2:45 a.m. was?

He merely said, "Night, Mulder," though, and made his way back to his room, turning off a light on his way. When he got back to his room, he was reassured to see all the lights in the living room remained off.

* * *

**Thursday, 6:07 a.m.**

**Minneapolis**

Their second full day in the Twin Cities started pretty much the same as the previous with the exception that Mulder took his run by himself, since Skinner didn't appear to be stirring quite yet. The day promised to be warmer than yesterday so Mulder wore a T-shirt and running shorts instead of sweats. He decided to push it a bit. He felt the need for some clarity of thought. Perhaps punishing the body would help clear his mind.

They were missing something important. He felt it, knew it, but couldn't figure out what it was. It remained in the background, niggling his consciousness, teasing him. He hoped a full out run would enable him to bring the thought to the foreground.

He was three and half miles out and had been running at about a six minute mile when his body chose to remind him of the fact that it had hardly slept or had nourishment in days. The lightheadedness hit, followed quickly by the nausea, at the worst possible moment.

He'd gone beyond the park and was crossing a street when the assault on his senses caused him to fall hard in the road. He had enough control to tuck and roll, thereby avoiding any major injuries, but boy was he going to hurt today.

Breath coming in gasps, muscles protesting from the abrupt strain, Mulder managed to raise his head enough to confirm that he wasn't in any immanent danger of being run over, then laid back in the road to assess his condition. He knew he had to move before he became roadkill, but it was so hard. Finally catching his breath, he rolled slightly on his side and propped himself to a sitting position. He checked for cars again, then finally managed to get to his knees, then feet.

As he started towards the sidewalk, a familiar voice called out, "What happened Spooky, the aliens trip you up?"

Crowley's unfriendly face was the last thing Mulder needed to see right now. He wouldn't have believed that even Frank Crowley was so petty as to leave Mulder on the road when he was obviously hurt. But, Mulder heard the man's fading snicker as he sank against the nearest wall for support. Blood dripped from his skinned knees and from a cut on his palm. How the heck had that happened? Must have been something in the road. He wadded his hand in the bottom of his loose T-shirt, hoping to staunch the flow of blood.

Mulder tried to focus his thoughts on his situation and determine what to do now. He had no money for a cab so that would mean multiple trips up and down to the hotel room to get money and pay a driver, increasing the chances of others seeing him in this condition. He'd rather slip into the hotel quietly, when no other agents were around.

He was starting to feel better and decided his knees were only skinned, nothing was sprained or strained, none of the injuries were really too bad. Mulder stood up and figured he could make it back to the hotel at an easy jog in a little more than a half hour, if he went back by the most direct route. With any luck, Skinner would be in the shower or at breakfast, and he could make it into the room without anyone noticing. It would be too embarrassing to admit the truth, after all.

By the time Mulder was about a half mile out from the hotel, his body once again decided to remind him what had started all this mess in the first place. This time at least he was only jogging and was better prepared to handle the attack.

Mulder quickly came to a stop and put his left hand on the wall of a nearby bank in support, his right still wrapped in the bottom half of his shirt. He closed his eyes, tried to breath deeply, and leaned forward to encourage the blood to flow to his head. That was supposed to work, wasn't it? Why was he still feeling so dizzy?? He stayed in that position for a full minute at least, before the weakness passed.

When he opened his eyes, Mulder found himself looking down at his legs, which were now covered in blood, little rivulets still winding their way downward. Damn, between the legs and the hand, he'd scare Scully to death if she saw him like this. He could try to find someplace to get cleaned up, could possibly even use his T-shirt to get some of the blood off. Mulder finally decided that time was pressing, so he'd better head straight back and be prepared to lie, if necessary.

He started a slow jog once again and almost felt like crying in relief when he saw the hotel just down the street. It was full light now, and he knew the other agents would be stirring. Mulder slowed when he approached the entrance, glanced quickly in the front door to see whether anyone was around, then dashed in and jogged to the elevators when he saw he was alone. He made it in and to his floor with no one the wiser. Now, if he could only make it to his bedroom.

The hallway was empty and a moment standing by the door to the suite revealed no sounds inside. He opened the door slowly, walked in and headed for his room. He was five feet away from it when he heard Skinner say, "Mulder, we're meeting Scully for breakfast in ten minutes."

Mulder didn't stop or turn, merely said over his shoulder, "Yes, sir, I'll be ready." The door closed on his final words. Damn, that was close.

* * *

**Thursday, 8:11 a.m.**

**En Route to Minneapolis Bureau**

Scully walked next to her partner as they made their way to their command center in the local Bureau office. Every once in awhile, Mulder seemed to sort of stumble. It was quite odd, since he was generally quite graceful. Scully was trying to identify exactly what he was doing, when he asked, "So, Scully, are you meeting with Janice today?"

Scully considered his question. What was going on here? He knew she was going to be interviewing the other pathologists and that Janice Anderson was accompanying her. They had just discussed it at breakfast. Was he intentionally trying to distract her?

Scully stopped still, almost causing Skinner to run into her. She could hear his mumbled "What" in the background but was determined not to be put off.

Mulder had continued a step or two forward and then had stopped when he realized he was partnerless. When he looked back, Scully was staring at him with an angry expression. Damn, she was good.

"Mulder, what did you do?" Uh, oh. That was the tone he most dreaded. To lie, or not to lie, that was the question? Perhaps a half-truth.

Mulder intentionally adopted his most pathetic don't be mad at me look and said, "Scully, I just had a little tumble when I was running this morning. That's all."

He took his hands out of his overcoat pockets and raised them wide, as if to say, see, I'm fine, look at me.

"It wasn't the first time, Scully, and it won't be the last." Now he looked and sounded slightly irritated.

Skinner was confused at first, but quickly understood that Mulder had been trying to keep some sort of injury from his partner and his boss, unsuccessfully, it seemed.

Skinner looked at Mulder closely but saw nothing amiss, until a flash of white caught his attention. Was that a bandage on Mulder's right hand? Scully had evidently seen it as well.

She walked forward and grabbed his hand out of the air, refusing to let go even at his jerk.

"Scully, we don't have time for this. It's a little cut, that's all. I washed it and bandaged it and I think I'll survive." His voice had steadily been increasing volume and the last words were spoken forcefully. He snatched his hand out of her grip, then became angry at himself when he saw her hurt expression. He was such a bastard sometimes. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathed deeply and attempted a weak smile. Mulder reached out with his right hand and took Scully's still raised hand in his. "I'm sorry, Scully, really. Okay?"

She understood that what he was really asking was not only do you forgive me for speaking so sharply but also for not telling you about my tumble. She squeezed his hand lightly and nodded to him, forcing a smile. It was all she could manage.

He had a tendency to minimize any hurts and she couldn't help being concerned that he was doing the same thing now. Scully had no choice but to trust him on this, as well. But she'd sure as hell be sure to watch him closely over the next couple days.

Skinner had remained back, ignored through the entire exchange, and he was reasonably sure neither of his agents were thinking about him right now. They had turned, almost simultaneously, towards the bureau office and were now walking briskly down the sidewalk, quickly leaving him behind.

Skinner started after them, his eyes on Mulder. He finally saw what Scully had evidently seen earlier. The occasional limp, almost looking like a stumble, but not noticeable unless you were looking closely. Damn Mulder any way, couldn't he do anything the easy way?

* * *

**Thursday, 11:57 a.m.**

**Minneapolis Bureau**

The morning was a blur for Skinner. Mulder had asked him to spend time with the Commonalities team to make sure they were on the right track. His agent had been most concerned with finding the link between the victims that he was so sure existed. The team had subdivided and were diligently exploring every possibility of a connection, many of them ones that Skinner would never have imagined. Schools, teachers, sports teams, day care, doctors, hospitals, stores, salespeople, the list went on and on. Every conceivable way the children or the families could have been linked was being identified, prioritized, and explored.

Skinner realized it was practically noon and decided to see what Mulder was doing, perhaps try to get him to eat. He found the younger man sitting alone in the command center, jacket off, shirt sleeves rolled up, all lights out except for a small lamp that had been placed in the far corner. It cast dim, elongated shadows across the room.

Mulder was surrounded by children's clothes, the victim's clothes, some still in bags, some removed. Mulder sat with arms propped on knees, holding a little boys T-shirt in both his hands. He'd been facing the door and looked up as Skinner came in and shut the door again.

"The guy takes their clothes off, sexually molests them, beats the crap out of them, strangles them, sometimes after days of God knows what. Dumps them someplace, but leaves their clothes, neatly folded."

Mulder had been speaking in that dull, monotone voice that Skinner had come to recognize as a defense mechanism, a way for Mulder to remove himself from the horrors of the case. He looked at Skinner searchingly, obviously unable to understand, perhaps hoping his boss might have some insight he was lacking.

"Mulder, I don't understand any of it. I'm sorry."

Skinner felt the need to apologize to this man -- for not being able to provide understanding, but also for being unable to protect him from the case to begin with. Skinner moved closer to his agent and sat next to him with a weary sigh. He took off his glasses, rubbed his face, pinched the bridge of his nose. Mulder was staring at the T-shirt once again. Skinner put his glasses back on and also looked at the small shirt.

Unbidden came the image of the child's mother, lovingly laying the shirt out one morning for her little boy, along with a pair of pants, socks, shoes, making sure they all matched. The tragedy of a life ended before it had really even begun hit him then. Skinner had to get out of this room, away from these reminders. Reminders not only of the lives lost, the families destroyed, but of the children still out there, perhaps next on the killer's list, whose fragile lives would soon be devastated if the killer weren't found and stopped.

Skinner wanted to get away, to run from these reminders that made him feel so helpless. But Mulder was here. Mulder wasn't running. He had, in fact, immersed himself intentionally, absorbing the pain and the tragedy. Hell, he had lived the tragedy after his sister's disappearance. Skinner drew a deep breath and considered the thought that had just come to him.

Was this what it was like for Mulder after Samantha's disappearance? A twelve year old boy, surrounded by reminders that he could do nothing to save his sister? That he was helpless to act, to change anything? Jesus.

Skinner couldn't help his agent understand why the killer did what he did, probably wouldn't be able to help him come up with any answers at all, but he could do one thing. He could be there for him. Skinner propped his arms on his knees and leaned forward, head hanging down, eyes closed. Mulder leaned down and to the right, put the shirt on a pile, leaned farther down and picked up a little girl's dress, Missy's green and yellow spring dress, with a dandelion embroidered on the skirt.

Scully found them three hours later. A secretary had directed her to the command center and told her that she'd been instructed to keep everyone out of the room. The woman knew better than to question Scully's right to enter.

When she opened the door to the small conference room, Scully was surprised by the near lack of light. She arrested her initial impulse to flick on the overhead lightswitch. If they wanted more light than the small freestanding light provided, they'd have put it on themselves. As her eyes quickly adjusted to the dimness, Scully focused on Mulder and Skinner, sitting side by side across the room.

She walked around the conference table and approached them. Skinner had been watching her progress. Scully had never seen him looking so forlorn, so helpless. It was disconcerting. She didn't understand at first what was happening. She searched out her partner's form in the dim lighting, stood still, and watched him for a minute.

Mulder held a small tennis shoe in his right hand, the fingers of his left hand running absently up and down the empty tongue flap, up, down, up, down. The victim's clothes and shoes lay in piles around him. Scully began to understand.

Skinner was still looking at her and she finally nodded to him and then moved towards her partner. She didn't know how long they had been there. Hours at least. It was time for a break. Besides, she needed to speak with Mulder about her morning.

She took a breath which she was surprised to discover sounded shaky, even to her ears. Get a grip, Dana.

"Mulder."

He looked up at her and Scully realized he'd been aware of her presence. Scully unexpectedly became disoriented by a feeling of deja vu. She suddenly saw him sitting at his desk after he'd killed Roche, completely worn down, exhausted, ready to give up, feeling both helpless and guilty.

As she had then, Scully moved to embrace her partner, one arm pulling his head lightly against her stomach, the other around his shoulders. He didn't resist. Perhaps he'd also remembered, because he wrapped his left arm around her and pulled tight for a moment, almost as he had during the Roche case. This time, though, he didn't let go quite so fast. He needed the human contact. He needed for someone to touch him, bring him back from where he'd been. Skinner had helped, just being there. But he needed Scully. She was his anchor.

She hugged him back, ran her hand through his hair, then reached down and took the small shoe from his right hand. He loosened his grip and she moved back a little.

"Are you doing Okay, Mulder?"

She waited for the nod before letting him go. Mulder cleared his throat, realized he hadn't spoken in hours and hadn't had anything to drink all day.

"Mulder, I just got back with Janice. I want to give you and AD Skinner an update. I didn't get any lunch though and thought I'd see if you were hungry. I'll buy. How about it?" Her partner didn't seem very interested in her proposal. "Come on, let's get out of here for a little bit."

Scully turned to Skinner, who still hadn't moved or spoken. "Sir, have you eaten? Will you join us?"

Skinner smiled at her kindly, appreciative of her concern. He stood, stretched his back and looked down at Mulder, who still hadn't moved.

"Come on Mulder, I need to stretch my legs and find some food. Let's go."

He watched his agent start to get to his feet, only to gasp in what appeared to be intense pain. "Mulder?!"

Both Scully and Skinner were at his side, each holding an arm, as Mulder slowly straightened. He was obviously fighting to keep his expression neutral, but was failing miserably and looked to be on the verge of collapsing.

"Mulder, are you all right?"

Skinner's concerned voice finally cut through the fuzziness and pain and Mulder nodded, gasping out, "Yes, sir. Just tightened up a little from my fall this morning. I just need to stretch a little, that's all."

Skinner was now looking at Mulder as if he were crazy. A little tumble didn't cause you to almost pass out when you moved. Scully wasn't buying it either.

"Mulder sit down."

Mulder looked exasperated. He'd just managed to get upright and now she was trying to get him to sit down again. Uh uh.

"Scully, I just need some Advil or something. I should have thought of it this morning."

"Mulder, you're right. You probably should have thought of a lot of things this morning, but now it's past three in the afternoon. Sit down."

Mulder was trying to figure out if anything Scully had said made any kind of sense. One thing was sure, he'd better sit back down.

Scully had pulled a chair over in front of her partner and now sat, her knees lightly touching his. She looked up to her boss and asked, "Sir, could you turn the lights on please?"

Happy to have something to do, Skinner quickly walked around the table and flicked the lights on, blinking at the unaccustomed brightness. He then made his way back to his agents. Scully had cupped Mulder's left wrist in her right hand and was checking his pulse.

"Okay, Mulder. Now, tell me what happened this morning." She stared intently at her partner, daring him to lie to her.

"I was running hard, had gone three and a half or four miles out. I ...." Here Mulder paused, again thinking he might be able to get away with a half-truth, but Scully was still staring at him. She would know. "I got dizzy, nauseous, fell down in the road. Skinned my knees, cut my hand, got some bruises. That's it."

Scully was still staring at him and he felt guilty even though he'd told her everything.

"You were four miles out?"

Mulder nodded, forehead creased, confused at why this was important.

"How did you get back to the hotel?" Mulder now stared at her, mouth slightly open, unable to speak.

"Mulder?"

He closed his eyes, resigned to his fate now, then looked back at his partner. "I jogged back." He waited for the fireworks, but Scully only nodded after a moment's pause.

"Did you experience any more dizziness or nausea?"

"Once."

She nodded again then took his left arm in her hands, raised it slightly, and began to feel along its length.

"Uh, Scully, I'm pretty sure nothing's broken."

She dropped his left arm, picked up the right, repeated the procedure, ignoring his comment. She then moved her hands to his left shoulder, across his collar bones, to the right shoulder. He winced slightly and she made a note of it. More winces accompanied her investigation of his ribs and back, on the right side, where he'd impacted the road on his fall.

She sat back down in front of him and asked, "How bad are the cuts?"

"Just scrapes, Scully, that's all. Really."

His partner nodded at him, lightly squeezed his knee and then stood.

"Okay, Mulder, it doesn't look like you've done any permanent damage and you're right. You should have taken some Advil this morning. It probably would have helped. I'll go track some down now. And then, Mulder, we're going to get something to eat and then you are going to then lie down on the couch and sleep for a little while."

Mulder started to object, but Scully beat him to it. "Mulder, dizziness and nausea are signals from the body that something is wrong. I'm more worried about that then I am about any bumps and bruises you got from your fall this morning. You need food and rest. That's all there is to it. Now, just sit there until I get back."

Mulder was too drained even to feel embarrassed in front of his boss. Skinner moved to lean against the table and was now looking at him, an amused expression on his face. His eyes flicked to the right and back where Scully was just closing the door behind her.

"She's kind of hard to argue with, isn't she?"

Mulder laughed. "Sir, she's a force to be reckoned with. I'd lay odds on Scully any day of the week."

Scully wondered why both men were smiling at her when she returned but wrote it off as one of those male bonding things. She was pretty sure she didn't really want to know.


End file.
